[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