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DEAN CADALAN SAMHACH, A CHUILEAN MO RUIN

Gur ann an America tha sinn an drasd',
Fo dhubhar na coille, nach teirig gu brath.
'N uair dh'fhalbhas an dulachd 's a thionndaidh's
am blaths,
Bithidh cnothan, bidh ubhlan 's bithidh an siucar a fas.

Thoir mo shoraidh le failte Chinn t-Saile nam bo,
Far 'n d'fhuair mi greis m'drach 's mi'm phaisde
beag og.
Bhiodh fleasgaichean donn air bonnaibh ri ceol,
Agus nionogan dualach 's an gruaidh mar an ros.

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(英译)
We are now in America,
In the shade of the never-ending forest.
When winter departs and warmth returns,
Nuts, apples, and sugar will grow.
Bear my farewell and greeting to Kintail and it's cattle,
Where I spent my time of upbringing when I was
a young child.
There dark-haired lads would dance heel and toe to the music,
And lassies with flowing tresses and cheeks like the rose.