The hauntingly beautiful voice of Karen Matheson singing the song, composed in the late 18th Century by Jane Finlayson of Tong, Isle of Lewis, for a young Isle of Skye fisherman, from Uig, named Donald MacRae.
Fear a' Bhàta , The Boatman.
Oh, my boatman, o hòro éile Oh, my boatman, o hòro éile Oh, my boatman, o hòro éile My farewell and health to you, wherever you go.
Often I gaze from the highest hill Striving to see the boatman: Will you come today, or will you come tomorrow? And if you don't come at all it is wretched that I'll be.
Oh, my boatman ...
My heart is bruised and broken; Often the tears run from my eyes. Will you come tonight - or should I even expect you? Or will I just close the door with a melancholy sigh?
Oh, my boatman ...
It is often that I ask of mariners around Whether they saw you; are you unharmed? But every one of them says to me How foolish I am to have given my love to you.
Oh, my boatman ...
My darling promised me a silken gown; He promised me that and a tartan plaid of beauty: A gold ring in which I could see his image, But I fear that he has now forgotten.
Oh, my boatman ...
Although they said you had no substance That did not diminish my love for you. You will be in my dreams at night And in the morning I will search for you.
Oh, my boatman ...
I dearly loved you, I do not deny, Not a year's love nor for just a season; But a love that began when I was a child And will not wither until death consumes me.
Oh, my boatman ...
My friends and kinfolk often say That I must spurn my memories of you, But their advice to me means no more Than the ebbing and flowing of the sea.
Oh, my boatman ...
I will be forever tearful and dejected Like a wild swan wounded and broken Wailing its song of death on some weedy pond - Left by the others, alone and abandoned.
