Oh come, come along, and join in our song,
And march wi' our lads, along an' along;
He's waiting us there where heather grows fair,
And the clans they are gath'ring strong and strong.

He should be king, ye ken wha I mean,
Tho' Whigs that winna allow, allow;
We daurna speak out, but ye needna doubt,
That a' that we tell is true is true.

On the steep mountains' breast, where shadows oft rest,
An' burnies are tumblin' down, and down;
In that deep recess, there's
ane
we can guess,
That is heir to our ain Scottish crown.

Like a sunbeam to cheer, he soon will appear,
Gracefu' and fleet, like a mountain deer:
Come gather, a' gather, along and along,
The clans and the echoes will join in our song.

Oh come, come along, and join in our song,
And march wi' our lads, along an' along;
He's waiting us there where heather grows fair,
And the clans they are gath'ring strong and strong.