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ANNS AN GLEANN'SAN
ROBH MI OG
ROBH MI OG
IN the Glen where I was young
Blue-bell stems stood close together,
In the evenings dew-drops hung
Clear as glass above the heather.
I'd be sitting on a stone,
Legs above the water swung,
I a laddie all alone,
In the glen where I was young.
Well, the glen is empty now,
And far am I from them that love me,
Water to my knees below.
Shrapnel in the clouds above me;
Watching till I sometimes see.
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