The rain drizzles slowly down,
And all is calm and still.
Even the wind holding its breath,
For the piper on the hill.

As the clans have done for an age,
Tall and proud they stand.
As the pipes begin to skirl,
And music fills the land.

The world marches ever on,
Beyond loch and beinn and sea.
But here, high above the glen,
The piper remains free.

All through the rain,
And into sun they play still.
For there can be no greater joy,
For the piper on the hill.