Cruachan Ben, Cruachan Ben,
Cruachan Ben, king of mountains;
To the sky towers your head,
Round your shoulders fall the fountains.

1: I was reared at Letterben,
Far the grandest o ony;
Deers and roes bounded free,
Owerthe knowes sae green and bonny.

Chorus:
Cruachan Ben, Cruachan Ben,
Cruachan Ben, king of mountains;
To the sky towers your head,
Round your shoulders fall the fountains.

2: MacIntyres were the clan,
That your slopes and glens frequented,
Now there's nane o them left there,
And fu sair I do lament it.

3: Never mair will I see
My home that they have cruelly taken;
And they’ve put it under deer,
And my heart is nearly breaking.

4: Fare thee well Cruachan Ben,
Every scar and glen and fountain,
Lang may Macintyres be found,
Round their own belovéd mountain.

Chorus:
Cruachan Ben, Cruachan Ben,
Cruachan Ben, king of mountains;
To the sky towers your head,
Round your shoulders fall the fountains.