Out of the darkness the torches are comin' Clatter of hoofs and torches on roofs Young bairns wailin', ships they are sailing Burning off our homeland a new land to calm Will ye be proud when yer grand fathers turnin' Will ye be proud as yer son dies sae well Will ye be proud when the last battle's over will ye be proud at yer lifes last remain Highland men hangin' by English decree Hung by their kilts as a warnin' ta the free From a landlord's voice the Highlands are finished Your swords and yer plaid shall be never again The targe is torn and the claymore Is blunt As is the spirit of those who won't stand Betrayed and dishonoured and robbed of their land What has become of a Highland band There's a new day dawning For those who are Highland Heads held high and proud once again Two hundred years of bitter tears mourning The country that's ours must now be again
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