though I a wanderer be
no home on land or sea
still my heart returns to thee
in silent reverie
though on scotland's
bonnie shore
my feet shall tread no more
when I die will you bury me
beneath a rowan tree
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I love thy frosty morn
where the hunter winds his born
and thy heathered moors
and glens
I'll not roam again
though on scotland's
purple breast
I no longer take my rest
when I die will you bury me
beneath a rowan tree
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at brave culloden't stand
higbland blood like water ran
with 30.000 pounds upon my head
for dear life I fied
oh but though no crown I won
I'll always be your native son
so when I die will you bury me
beneath a rowan tree
beneath a rowan tree