Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on a wing, Onward the sailor's cry. Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to skye. Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep; Ocean's a royal bed. Rocked in the deep, flora will keep Watched by your weary head. () Many's the lad fought on that day Well the claymore could weild. When the night came, silently lay Dead on culloden's field. () Burned are our homes, exile and death Scatter the loyal men. Yet, 'ere the sword cool in the sheath Charlie will come again! ()