Sing me a song of a lad that is gone, Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Mull was astern, Rum on the port, Eigg on the starboard bow; Glory of youth glowed in his soul: Where is that glory now? <...> Give me again all that was there, Give me the sun that shone! Give me the eyes, give me the soul, Give me the lad that's gone! <...> Billow and breeze, islands and seas, Mountains of rain and sun, All that was good, all that was fair, All that was me is gone.