Chorus: The Highlander plac'd on the prow, Sir,
Shows the steam-boat's armorial bearings;
In the Tartans unfurl'd
So fam'd through the world,
Where the bonnet denotes perseverance.
At Lochgilphead¹ there's fun,
When by firing a gun,
To requite their ingenious toil, Sir,
The people come down,
And their happiness own,
In seeing again the Argyle, Sir.
With Captain Macarthur
We'd wish to go farther,
He's so cheerful a Steam-boat's commander;
Yet when on the shore
Fingal¹'s fields we explore,
With unwearied pleasure we wander.
Some hunt on the hills
And skip over the rills,
With Fingalian ardour they fly, Sir;
Some choose in the valley
Their spirits to rally,
For the hills are fatingingly high, Sir.
Yet who can begrudge
Up the steep heights to trudge,
The views are so wondrous romantic,
Where the winding sea seems
Like diminutive streams,
Mid the isles that shut out the Atlantic.
Inverary folk smile
When they seen the Argyle,
Whose crowds make attention worthwhile, Sir,
For they know that their town
Has inceas'd inn renown
Since visited by the Argyle, Sir.