| Lyric by Sir Harold Boulton
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| When I’ve done my work of day / And I row my boat away
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| Down the waters o' Loch Tay / As the evening light is fading
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| And I look upon Ben Lawers / Where the after-glory glows
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| And I think on two bright eyes / And the merry mouth below
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| She’s my beauteous nighean ruadh* / She’s my joy and sorrow too
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| And although she is untrue / Well, I cannot live without her
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| For my heart’s a boat in tow / And I’d give the world to know
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| Why she means to let me go / As I sing horee horo
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| Nighean ruadh*, your lovely hair / Has more glamour I declare
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| Than all the tresses rare / 'tween Killin and Aberfeldy
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| Be they lint white, brown or gold / Be they blacker than the sloe
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| They are worth no more to me / Than the melting flake of snow
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| Her eyes are like the gleam / O' the sunlight on the stream
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| And the songs the fairies sing / Seem like songs she sings at milking
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| But my heart is full of woe / For last night she bade me go
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| And the tears begin to flow / As I sing horee, horo
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| (* «Nighean ruadh» is Scottish Gaelic for «red-haired girl».) |