Cam ye by Athol, lad wi' the philabeg,
Doon by the Tummel or banks o' the Garry.
Saw ye the lads wi' their bonnets and white cockades,
Doon fae their mountains tae follow Prince Chairlie.
I hae but one son, gallant young Donald,
But had I ten, they would follow Glengarry.
Helped by MacDonald and gallant clan Ronald,
These are the men I would trust wi' my Chairlie.
I'll go tae Lochiel and I’ll
bend and kneel tae them,
Lord o' the Moray and Roy of Kilairdie.
Brave MacIntosh, he will fly tae the fields wi' them,
These are the men that would die for Prince Chairlie.
Doon through the lowlands, doon wi' the Whigamore,
Loyal true Hielan' men doon wi' them rarely.
Ronald and Donald ride on wi' the broad Claymore,
O'er the necks o' the foes o' Prince Chairlie.
Follow ye, follow ye, wha' widnae follow ye,
Lang hae ye loo'd us and trusted us fairly.
Chairlie, o Chairlie, wha widnae follow ye,
King o' the Hielan' hearts, Bonnie Prince Chairlie.