Il Signore Delle Botole

[The lord of the trap-doors]. [instrumental].

Il Palco N. 5

It Was A' For Our Rightfu' King

It was a' for our rightfu' King. We left fair Scotland's strand;. It was a' for our rightfu' King. We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,. We e'er saw Irish land..

Is There For Honest Poverty (for A' That)

Tho' women's minds, like winter winds,. May shift, and turn, an' a' that,. The noblest breast adores them maist-. A consequence I draw that.. . Chorus.

If I Never Spend A Morning Without You

It's morning o'er the Islands I love. And wild seas lie still, deep and blue. Though life has sent me troubles, I'll feel no pain. . If I never spend a morning without you.

I'd Cross The Wild Atlantic

Ah me, I must mourn my true love evermore. Though coldly forsaken, it's you adore. And if you'd return then I'd make you my bride. Or I'd cross the wild Atlantic to be by your side.

I Mourn For The Highlands

I mourn for the Highlands, now drear and forsaken. The lands of my fathers the gallant and brave. To make room for the sportsmen, their lands were all taken.