2.Och! a Thearlaich og Stiubhart
'se do chuis rinn mo leireadh
Thug thu uam gach ni bh'agam
Ann an cogadh a'd aobhar
Cha chrodh is cha chairdean
Rinn mo chradh ach mo cheile
O'n la dh'fhag thu m'i'm aonar
Gun sion 'sant-saoghal ach leine
Mo run geal og.
Gur a mis' thair mo sqaradh
'Sqed a chan-am cha bhreug e
'Sioma te bha na bantraich
Nach d'fhuair samhladh do'm cheile
Fear do cheille's do thuig-se
cha robh fur-asd r'a fhaotuinn
'Scha do sheas air Cul-lo-dair
Fear do choltais bu treine
Mo run gael og.
(英譯)
O young Charles Stewart,
Your cause is the reason of my sorrow
You took from me everything I had,
In the war on your behalf
I am not mourning cattle and sheep,
But my partner
Since I am left alone
With nothing but my shroud!
I am torn apart,
And although I say it,
It is no lie
My joy turned to sorrow,
Since you will not return from death
One of your wisdom and understanding,
Was not easy to find
And not one stood at Culloden,
Of your appearance and bravery.
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