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Talk about a loser, i was just about to go |
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When someone grabbed me by the arm, a man i did not know |
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He said he'd been a drover, a member of the clan |
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With runrig in his very soul and nowhere left to stand |
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Now me i'm just a highland boy and cottar was my trade |
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He'd seen me at kildoanan when the black-face came to stay |
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He'd oatcakes and he'd whisky and one foot in the grave |
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For us it's over |
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Bitter tears began to fall as whisky tore away the years |
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From the straths and the braes |
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Forever yesterday |
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The royal george it was that brought the countess to our door |
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She wanted us to leave the hills for crofts upon the moor |
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She took our piece of paradise and left us on the shore |
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For us it's over |
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Bitter tears began to fall as whisky tore away the years |
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From the straths and the braes |
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Forever yesterday |
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They cleared the clans from strathnavar, the heart of sutherland |
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They cleared us from our highland homes by ship to foreign glens |
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There's linton and there's cheviot and red deer on the bens |
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For us it's over, over, over, my friend |
