Tekst piosenki
Ah, for the glens are lyin' bare, And the wee bit farm deserted, And the woods of Germany, Grows in rows o'er the broken hearted. Black is the wood on the roofance was braw But blacker still is your heart, Victoria, Sent your men untae our glens You'll need the Good Lord lookin' o'er ye. Many hae gane tae Americay You burnt their hames and garred them wander Gor a' would have stayed wi' the deil himsel' As bide an hour wi' the cruel Gillanders. Ah, for the glens are lyin' bare And the wee bit farm deserted And the woods of Germany Grows on rows o'er the broken hearted.
