Yonder hills of beauty! Sparkle waters that glisten,
tranquility embraced, silence? No! Listen!
On Etive's clear edge, there's lapping of water,
and bustling sounds, of a playful brown otter.

A scene of serenity, no birds in view,
but chirping of sparrows, hidden in a bush too.
On expanse of the slopes, hear the rut of the deer,
echoes of the distance, evidently so clear.

This highland glen, a true jewel named Etive,
proud in the country, to which it is native.
Nowhere close, to many worldly scenes,
nor by comparison, in anyone's dreams.

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