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Oh where shall I gae seek my bread and where shall I gae wander And where shall I gae hide my head, for here I'll bide nae langer The seas may row, the winds may blow and swathe me round in danger My native land I must forgo and roam a lonely stranger The glen that was my father's own must be by his forsaken And the house that was my father's home is levelled with the bracken Och on, och on, our glory's o'er, stol'n by a mean deceiver Our hands are on the broad claymore, but might is broke forever And now my Prince, my injured Prince, thy people have disowned thee Have hunted and have driven thee down with ruined chiefs around thee Thy brave, thy just, fell in the dust, on ruin's brink we quiver Heaven's pitying eye is closed on thee, adieu, adieu forever From Letras Mania