The pipe bands they marched all the way to the green,
The crowds were enormous the most that i've seen,
They played Highland songs from the days in the past,
The sound so divine,how i wished it would last,
Now this was the Gathering,they met once a year,
Clans from all over,big men with no fear,
They'd toss the caber,and the great tug of war,
They'd yank and they'd pull till their strength was no more,
The girls danced round swords with their hands in the air,
Doing the Fling with the utmost of care,
Clad in the tartan that their elders had wore,
They gave all they had till their feet were so sore,
The games carried on for the whole of the day,
As people sang songs and chatted away,
With beer barrels empty and wine all but done,
This had been good,a great day of fun,
So if you ever come North,pay us a call,
We're the nicest of folk and we welcome all,
You won't need a kilt or a sporran to wear,
It would just be so nice to have you there.
