Lord Ullin's Daughter

[Spoken Word: Jude Law]

A chieftain to the Highlands bound

Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry

And I'll give thee a silver pound

To row us o’er the ferry"

"Now who be ye would cross Lochgyle

This dark and stormy water?"

"O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle

And this, Lord Ullin’s daughter."

And fast before her father's men

Three days we've fled together

For should he find us in the glen

My blood would stain the heather

His horsemen, hard behind us ride

Should they our steps discover

Then who will cheer my bonny bride

When they have slain her lover?

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight

"I'll go, my chief, I'm ready"

It is not for your silver bright

But for your winsome lady

"And by my word, the bonny bird

In danger shall not tarry

So though the waves are raging white

I'll row you o'er the ferry"

By this the storm grew loud apace

The water-wraith was shrieking

And in the scowl of heaven, each face

Grew dark as they were speaking

But still, as wild blew the wind

And as the night grew drearer

Adown the glen rode armed men

Their trampling sounded nearer

"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries

"Though tempests round us gather

I'll meet the raging of the skies

And not an angry father"

The boat has left a stormy land

A stormy sea before her

When, oh! Too strong for human hand

The tempest gathered o’er her

And still they rowed amidst the roar

Of waters fast prevailing

Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore

His wrath was changed to wailing

For sore dismayed, through storm and shade

His child, he did discover

One lovely hand she stretched for aid

And one was round her lover

"Come back! Come back!" he cried in grief

"Across this stormy water

And I’ll forgive your Highland chief

My daughter! Oh, my daughter!"

'Twas vain, the loud waves lash’d the shore

Return or aid preventing

The waters wild went o'er his child

And he was left lamenting