An àm bhith fàgail Ghlaschu anns a’ mhadainn mhoIch Dimàirt
Bha m’ inntinn trom fo airtneal ’s mi cho fad bho thìr mo ghràidh,
A’ fàgail mo luchd-eòlais anns a’ bhaile mhòr a’ tàmh
Na deòir nan sruth om shùilean ’s mi cur cùlaibh ri mo ghràidh.

Chan iongnadh ged bhiodh cianalas am-bliadhna orm is gruaim
Tha falt mo chinn air liathadh, ’s chan eil ial dheth a bhios buan,
Is ged nach eil mi aosta thàinig caochladh air mo shnuadh
On dh’ fhàg mi ’n t-eilean àlainn, Uibhist àrda nam beann fuar.

’S e Uibhist tìr as bòidhche leam tha ’n-diugh fo neòil nan speur
Gur tric a shnàmh an ceò air a’ Bheinn Mhòir ’s mu Sgor an Fhèidh
’S a-staigh gu gualainn Mhaireabhal, far ’n minig ’n do thàmh an sprèidh
’S bu tric a thug mi ruaig ann ’s b’ e mo luaidh bhith às an dèidh.

Ach, b’ fheudar Uibhist fhàgail ’s tighinn a thàmh am measg nan Gall
’S e dh’ fhàg a-nochd sa bhàta mi ’s i mach air bhàrr nan tonn
An fhairge ’s i na smùid agus an stiùir agam nam làimh
’S a cùrsa o Cheann Èirinn leinn gu Buenos Aires thall.

Ach tha gillean gasta innte cho math ’s a dh’ fhàg an tìr
Tha Dòmhnall ann is Alasdair, tha Cailean ann ’s mi fhìn
An Uibhist nam beann àrda ’s ann a dh’ àraicheadh na suinn
’S gun cluinnte fuaim na Gàidhlig ’s iad gu h-àrd air bhàrr a’ chruinn.

Ach sguiridh mi den dàn seo, chan eil mo chàileachd ann,
Chan eil mi na mo bhàrd, cha deach na tàlantan nam cheann
Mas e gu bheil e ’n dàn dhomh tilleadh sàbhailt innte nall
Gun gabh mi bàt’ na smùide ’s thèid mi null gu Tìr nam Beann.

Leaving Glasgow early on a Tuesday morning
My mind was heavy with sorrow and I’m far from the land that I love
Leaving my acquaintances who live in the city
The tears streaming from my eyes as I turn my back on my love

It’s no surprise that I feel homesickness and gloom this year
My hair has greyed and hardly a strand will remain
And though I am not old, my appearance has changed
Since I left the beautiful island, Uist of the cold, high mountains

Uist is the most beautiful place that lies beneath the skies
The mist often swam on Beinn Mhòr and Sgor an Fhèidh
And in to the shoulder of Maireabhal where the cattle would often rest
I often took a stroll there, I would love to be gathering the cattle now

But I had to leave Uist, to go and live among the lowlanders
That’s what left me on the boat tonight, out on the high seas
The sea angry and my hand on the rudder
Setting our course from the tip of Ireland across to Buenos Aires

But there are lads on board as fine as ever left the shore
There’s Donald and Alasdair, Colin and myself
In Uist of the high mountans the heroes were reared
And Gaelic can be heard from high up the mast

But I’ll bring this song to a close, I’m not in the mood for it
I’m not a poet, those talents weren’t given to me
If it is my destiny to safely return across the sea
I’ll take the steamer and head across to the Land of the Mountains