Air - 'Castell Gloom.'
Oh Castell Gloom! thy strength is gone,
The green grass o'er thee growin';
On Hill of Care thou art alone,
The Sorrow round thee flowin’.
Oh Castell Gloom! on thy fair wa's
Nae banners now are streamin';
The howlit flits amang thy ha's,
And wild birds there are screamin’.

Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime
Frae civil war that flows!
Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.

Here ladies bright were aften seen,
Here valiant warriors trod;
And here great Knox has aften been,
But a' are gane! the gude, the great,
And naething now remains,
But ruin sitting on thy wa's,
And crumblin' down the stanes!

Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime
Frae civil war that flows!
Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.

The lofty Ochils bright did glow,
Though sleepin' was the sun:
But mornin’s light did sadly show
What ragin’ flames had done!
Oh, mirk, mirk was the misty cloud,
That hung o’er thy wild wood!
Thou wert like beauty in a shroud,
And all was solitude.

Oh, mourn the woe! oh, mourn the crime
Frae civil war that flows!
Oh, mourn, Argyll, thy fallen line,
And mourn the great Montrose.