|
(chorus) |
|
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on a wing, |
|
Onward the sialor's cry. |
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Carry the lad that's born to be king |
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Over the sea to skye. |
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Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep; |
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Ocean's a royal bed. |
|
Rocked in the deep, flora will keep |
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Watched by your weary head. |
|
(chorus) |
|
Many's the lad fought on that day |
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Well the claymore could weild. |
|
When the night came, silently lay |
|
Dead on culloden's field. |
|
(chorus) |
|
Burned are our homes, exile and death |
|
Scatter the loyal men. |
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Yet, 'ere the sword cool in the sheath |
|
Charlie will come again! |
|
(chorus) |
