Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean,
Where heartsome with thee I have many days been;
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more,
We’ll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
These tears that I shed, they are all for my dear,
And not for the dangers attending on war;
Tho’ bore of rough seas to a far bloody shore,
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.

Though hurricanes rise, and rise every wind,
They’ll ne’er make a tempest like that in my mind;
Tho’ loudest of thunder on louder waves roar,
That’s naithing like leaving my love on the shore.
To leave thee behind me, my heart is fair pained;
By ease that’s inglorious no fame can be gained:
And beauty and love’s the reward of the brave,
And I must deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jenny, maun plead my excuse,
Since honour commands me, how can I refuse?
Without it I ne’er can have merit for thee,
And without thy favour I’d better not be!
I gae then, my lass, to win honour and fame,
And if I should luck to come gloriously hame,
A heart I’ll bring to thee with love running o’er,
And then I’ll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

Allan Ramsay (1686-1758)