The Book of Scottish Song/Farewell to Funery
Farewell to Funery.
[This is the production of the Rev. Dr. Norman Macleod, first, minister of Campbeltown, afterwards of Campsie, and now of St. Columba's church, Glasgow. It is very popular in the Highlands. The English of the chorus is "Arise and let us go."]
Eirich agus tiuginn, O!
Eirich agus tiuginn, O!
Eirich agus tiuginn, O!
Farewell, farewell to Funery.
The wind is fair, the day is fine,
And swiftly, swiftly runs the time;
The boat is floating on the tide,
That wafts me off from Funery.
Eirich, &c.
A thousand, thousand tender ties
Accept this day my plaintive sighs;
My heart within me almost dies
At thought of leaving Funery.
Eirich, &c.
With pensive steps I've often stroll'd,
Where Fingal's castle stood of old,
And listen'd while the shepherds told
The legend tales of Funery.
Eirich, &c.
I've often paus'd at close of day,
Where Ossian sang his martial lay,
And grieved the sun's departing ray,
Wandering o'er Dun-Funery.
Eirich, &c.
Aultan Caluch's gentle stream,
That murmurs sweetly through the green,
What happy, joyful days I've seen,
Beside the banks of Funery.
Eirich, &c.
Farewell, ye hills of storm and snow,
The wild resorts of deer and roe;
In peace the heath-cock long may crow
Along the moors of Funery.
Eirich, &c.
It's not the hills nor woody vales,
Alone my joyless heart bewails,
But a mournful group this day remains
Within the manse of Funery.
Eirich, &c.
Can I forget Glen-turrit's name?
Farewell, dear father, best of men,
May heaven's joys with thee remain
Within the manse of Funery?
Eirich, &c.
Mother! a name to me so dear,
Must I, must I, leave thy care,
And try a world that's full of snares
Far, far from thee and Funery?
Eirich, &c.
Brother of my love, farewell—
Sisters, all your griefs conceal—
Thy tears suppress—your sorrows quell—
Be happy while at Funery.
Eirich, &c.
Archibald! my darling child,
May heaven thy infant footsteps guide;
Should I return, Oh! may I find
Thee smiling still at Funery.
Eirich, &c.
O must I leave these happy scenes—
See, they spread the flapping sails—
Adieu, adieu, my native plains—
Farewell, farewell to Funery.