Speed, bonny 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,
Thunderclaps ram the air!
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare!
Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Oceans a royal bay,
And while you sleep, Flora will keep
Watch o'er your weary head.
Burned are our houses, exile and death
Scatter our loyal men;
Before the sword is cool in the sheath
Prince Charlie will come again.
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