Classic Poem

Horo, my own comrade,
in thy absence I feel doleful;
horo, my own comrade,
when I climbed peaks and hill slopes,
I joyed to have thy company,
and thy weight upon my shoulder.

When I went to Glen Lochay
and purchased Nic Coiseim,
'tis I was not imprudent
when I used gold to ransom her.
Horo, my own comrade, &c.

I took thee to Misty Corrie,
when I myself frequented it;
by means of thee, I oft laid low
the stags and the red young hinds.

I took thee to Ben Chaisteil,
and to the moor adjoining it,
the Mam and Creag an Aprain,
on the flank of Ben nam Fuaran.

I took thee to Ben Dobhrain,
whereon the antlered stags would thrive:
what time they started roaring,
I thought their belling charming.

I took thee to Corrie Chruiteir —
O 'tis a sunny, sheltered spot,
so fruitful, grassy, rich in herbs:
the gentry would have sport there.

I bore thee to Glen Etive,
and lifted thee up the Creisean;
'twas the depth of love I gave thee
that made my step so roving.

Thou art good on Meall Bhuiridh
and not worse on Ben Chrulaist;
I blazed the powder oft with thee
in the corrie behind the Cruach.

I took thee to the Gartan Pass,
O 'tis a lovely nursing combe,
while the deer make their couches
on the grey fell of the Buachaill.

I took thee to the Lone Dell
in the glen which the old harts haunt;
oft have they been raised around
the brae of Clach an Tuairneir.

I went to Feith Chaorrainn
by the track of Corrie Chaolain,
where men who had affection
for the jaunty herd resided.

I took thee to Ben Chaorach
in quest of bucks and roes;
there was no fear of finding none —
they are ever on Torr Uaine.

When I make for the mountain,
of all the guns I favour thee;
since thou hast gained this honour
who now can keep it from thee?

Though I have scant resources
to sit down with the topers,
yet, though I go into the inn,
I will not drink thee in a cup.