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| BEN CRUACHAN is king of the mountains | |
| That gird in the lovely Loch Awe; | |
| Loch Ettive is fed from his fountains, | |
| By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe. | |
| With his peak so high | 5 |
| He cleaves the sky | |
| That smiles on his old gray crown, | |
| While the mantle green, | |
| On his shoulders seen, | |
| In many a fold flows down. | 10 |
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| He looks to the north, and he renders | |
| A greeting to Nevis Ben; | |
| And Nevis, in white snowy splendors, | |
| Gives Cruachan greeting again. | |
| O’er dread Glencoe | 15 |
| The greeting doth go, | |
| And where Ettive winds fair in the glen; | |
| And he hears the call | |
| In his steep north wall, | |
| “God bless thee, old Cruachan Ben.” | 20 |
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| When the north winds their forces muster, | |
| And ruin rides high on the storm, | |
| All calm, in the midst of their bluster, | |
| He stands with his forehead enorm. | |
| When block on block, | 25 |
| With thundering shock, | |
| Comes hurtled confusedly down, | |
| No whit recks he, | |
| But laughs to shake free | |
| The dust from his old gray crown. | 30 |
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| And while torrents on torrents are pouring | |
| Down his sides with a wild, savage glee, | |
| And when louder the loud Awe is roaring, | |
| And the soft lake swells to a sea, | |
| He smiles through the storm, | 35 |
| And his heart grows warm | |
| As he thinks how his streams feed the plains, | |
| And the brave old Ben | |
| Grows young again, | |
| And swells with his lusty veins. | 40 |
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| For Cruachan is king of the mountains | |
| That gird in the lovely Loch Awe; | |
| Loch Ettive is fed from his fountains, | |
| By the streams of the dark-rushing Awe. | |
| Ere Adam was made | 45 |
| He reared his head | |
| Sublime o’er the green winding glen; | |
| And when flame wraps the sphere, | |
| O’er earth’s ashes shall peer | |
| The peak of the old granite Ben. | 50 |
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