---

The gathering clans, 'mong Scotia's glens,

Wi' martial steps are bounding,

And loud and lang, the wilds amang,

The war pipe's strains are sounding;

The sky and stream reflect the gleam

Of broadswords glancing rarely,

To guard till death the hills of heath

Against the foes o' Charlie.

While banners wave aboon the brave

Our foemen vainly gather,

And swear to claim by deeds o' fame,

Our hills and glens o' heather.

For seas shall swell to wild and fell,

And crown green Appin fairly,

Ere hearts so steel'd to foeman yield

The rights o' royal Charlie.

Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud,

And let the mountains hoary

Re-echo round the warlike sound

That speaks of Highland glory,

For strains sublime, through future time,

Shall tell the tale unsparely,

How Scotland's crown was placed aboon

The yellow locks o' Charlie.

While banners wave aboon the brave

Our foemen vainly gather,

And swear to claim by deeds o' fame,

Our hills and glens o' heather.

For seas shall swell to wild and fell,

And crown green Appin fairly,

Ere hearts so steel'd to foeman yield

The rights o' royal Charlie.

Then let on high the banners fly,

And hearts and hands rise prouder,

And wake amain the warlike strain

Still louder

For we ha'e sworn, ere dawn the morn

O'er Appin's mountains early

Auld Scotland's crown shall nod aboon

The yellow locks o' Charlie.