The Boatman (fhír A Bhata)

How often haunting the highest hilltop

I scan the ocean, a sail to see

Will it come tonight, love, will it come tomorrow

Or ever come, love, to comfort me

Chorus "The Boatman" in Gaelic:

O fare thee well, love, where'er thou be

They call thee fickle, they call thee false one

And seek to change me but all in vain

Thou art my dream yet throughout the dark night

And every moment I watch the main

There's not a hamlet, too well I know it,

Where you go wandering or stay awhile

But all it's old folk you win with talking

And charm its maidens with song and smile

Doth thou remember the promise made me,

A token plead, a silken gown

That ring of gold with your hair and portrait

That gown and ring I will never own