The stars are shining cheerily, cheerily,|
Ho-ro, Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me;
The seamew is moaning drearily, drearily,
Ho-ro, Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me.
Cold is the storm-wind that ruffles his breast,
The waves are dancing merrily, merrily,
Hushed be thy moaning, lone bird of the sea,
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