Lament for the Lads

Ochone o for na gillean departed,
    Sundered by seas from us, buried afar.
Gone are the lads who were leal and high-hearted
    And we are now dreeing the dolours of war.
’Illean, ’illean, ’illean,
    Sorrow may fade but your fame shall endure,
’Illean, ’illean, ’illean,
    While flower’s in the forest and wind’s on the moor.

Children of storm, they were cradled in thunder.
    Sound they could sleep in the roar of the guns.
Sleet of the shells to the Gael was a wonder,
    But nothing to daunton our tempest-bred sons.
’Illean, ’illean, ’illean,
    Deep from their graves and the years dead and gone,
’Illean, ’illean, ’illean,
    All of your fore-folk were crying you on.

Sweet be their sleep now wherever they’re lying,
    Far though they be from the hills of their home.
Women remembering the cause of their dying
    Shall with sweet flowers to place over them come.
’Illean, ’illean, ’illean,
    The dark has come down and now sunshine is o’er.
’Illean, ’illean, ’illean,
    And you, who were starlight, shall cheer us no more.