Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing
Onward, the sailors cry
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye. Loud
the winds howl, loud the waves roar
Thunder clouds rend the air
Baffled our foes stand on the shore
Follow they will not dare.
Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep
Ocean's a royal bed
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.
Many's the lad fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field.
Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men
Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again. |
