[Verse 1] The moorland wind, a keen soft sound, Where old earth's bones lie in the ground. Our first true stories etched in stone, A spirit fiercely held, our own. Stone walls now weep, their memories deep, Of promises the ages keep. [Pre-Chorus] The pipes begin their measured plea, For kin across the wide, wide sea. [Chorus] Oh, Strathnaver's breath, it calls us home, Through heather hills and ocean foam. MacKay's own heart, it beats so true, A strength that time can't cleave in two. Though sorrow lingers, deep and long, Our iron will still drives us on. [Verse 2] The crofts lie low, a vacant gaze, Through shifting light, a peat-smoke trace. Each hearth a wound, each field a sigh, Beneath the vast, unblinking sky. The fiddle's cry, a haunting strain, A memory carved of joy and pain. [Bridge] The clearances tore, a bitter rift, Sent our brave souls adrift. But the spirit fierce, it holds its own, In every scattered seed now sown. The sorrow sings, the spirit flies, Beneath these wild, ancestral skies. [Final Chorus] Oh, Strathnaver's breath, it calls us home, Through heather hills and ocean foam. MacKay's own heart, it beats so true, A strength that time can't cleave in two. Though sorrow lingers, deep and long, Our iron will still drives us on. Our ancient name, forever strong!
