1. AN TORR

Out from the cold,
Welcomed into our home,
We saw that they were fed,
But soon we would be dead

Warm was thy hearth,
To save from frozen hands,
We filled their flasks with wine,
But none shall rest this night

Cold, the wind in the pine,
Cast out with nowhere to go,
The heart of the earth's turned stone,
There's blood in the River Coe

Put all to the sword

Out from the night,
We offered our homestead,
Some fled through the snow,
While some, cut down in their beds,

"Cruel is the snow that sweeps Glencoe,
And covers the grave O' Donald,
Cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe,
And murdered the house O' MacDonald" - Jim McLean