She’d come from the sea and swam thru the Loch
Up to the gate of the channel
Shedding her skin she approached young MacGregor
Awaiting a discourse of flannel

He spoke not a word, but his eyes gave away
To the awe and much of surprise
She thought to herself, could this be the one?
So she looked deeper to the soul in his eyes

“I remember your kinsman, ‘bairn o’ the mist’
When your teaghlich was branded and scorned
Now you come back to this isle to reclaim your right
But this land’s not yet yours to be owned”

My Clan are the keepers, I watch over this land
My realm, as the faery folk roam
Your ancestor came with no due respect
And thought it to make it his home

They took his wife Mary, while she was with child
They tucked her away in the wood
When the laddie was born and sweet Mary died
Then they sent him away, thought for good

The rise of the clan wars was whispered intent
For the arrogant take o’ the land
But when Caimbeul had come and ravaged the fields
The folk all agreed on the stand

Generations have died with their names blackened out
It’s time to lay down your sword
I am come to thee now, to offer my hand
For a peace, if you give me your word”

The hand that she offered, he took in his own
Gently, he held it til dawn
Down on one knee he proclaimed her his troth
And that’s how the Clanaugh MacGregor lived on

From Argyll and Perthshire, So rose a Clan
A name with a mighty esteem
It then, is no wonder the motto remains
*“'S rioghal mo dhream”

* (My race is royal)