Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on a wing.
"Onward" the sailors 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
Watch by your weary head.
Chorus.

Many a lad fought on that day,
Well the claymore did wield.
When the night came, silently lay
Dead in Culloden's field.
Chorus.

Burned are our homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men.
Yet, 'ere the sword cool in the sheath,
Charlie will come again!

Speed, bonnie boat,
like a bird on a wing.
"Onward" the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye