Come to the highlands the summer is nigh
Nature all smiles in the Glens of Argyll
The sweet scented primrose so fresh with the dew
There the white sorrel bows amid the violets so blue
The snows from the winter are swept from the ben
The cuckoo is callingher welcome again
Harken the lark as she spirals on high
With the chorus of gladness 0′ er the Glens of Argyll
The dwellers in cities are searching for gold
So tired and so faded and seeking repose
Here in the highlands real peace they will find
With rest and content in the Glens of Argyll
Far from their homeland so many have roamed
Seeking their fortunes on far foreign shores
But sadness and longings come oft to their mind
When their thought night in fancy to the Glens of Argyll
Let England sing praises of downs and of dales
And the Welsh sing their praises of green valley’s so fair
Whatever the events their poets inspire
Can never compare with the Glens of Argyll
Allan Livingston