As I went a-walking one evening of late,
Where Flora’s gay mantle the fields decorate,
I carelessly wandered where I did not know,
By the banks of a fountain that lies near Glencoe.

Like her whom the prize of Mount Ida’s have won,
There approached me a lassie as bright as the sun.
The ribbons and talon [tartan?] around her did flow,
Which graced poor MacDonald, the pride of Glencoe.

I thought she was enchanted, to her I drew nigh,
The red rose and lily in her cheeks seemed to vie.
I asked her her name and how far she’d to go.
She answered me, ‘Kind sir, I am bound for Glencoe.’

‘Now' says I, ‘my fair lady, if your enchanting smile
And comely fair features do my heart beguile,
But if your kind affection on me you bestow,
Ah we’ll bless the happy hour we both met in Glencoe.’

‘Kind Sir’ she made answer, ‘your offer I distain.
I once had a sweetheart, MacDonald by name.
And he went to the war about five year ago,
And a maid I’ll remain till he return to Glencoe.’

‘Perhaps that MacDonald regards not your name,
But has placed his affection on some foreign maid.
Or he might have forgotten, for all that you know,
The lovely young damsel he left in Glencoe.’

‘MacDonald in true love will never depart,
For love, truth and honour, is found in his heart,
And if I do not find him it is single I’ll go,
And I’ll mourn for MacDonald, the pride of Glencoe.’

Then, finding her constant, he drew forth a glove,
As a token she gave him, in parting, of love.
And she clung to his arms and the tears down did flow,
Saying: ‘You’re welcome, my Donald, returned to Glencoe.’

'Cheer up, my dear Flora, your troubles are o’er,
And till death will depart us we’ll never part more.
And the storms of war at a distance may blow,
But in peace and contentment we will live in Glencoe.’