MY name it is Donald M'Donald, I live in the Highlands sae grand; I've follow'd my banners, and will do, Wherever our Maker has land. When rankit amang the blue bonnets, Nae danger can fear me ava; I ken that my brethren around me Are either to conquer or fa'. Brogues and brochen and a', Brochen and brogues and a'; And is na she very weel aff, Who has brogues and brochen and a'.
Last year we were wonderfu' canty Our friends and our country to see; But since the proud Corsican's vauntie, We'll meet him by land or by sea. Whenever a clan is disloyal, Wherever our King has a foe, He'll quickly see Donald M'Donald, Wi's Highlandmen a' in a row. Guns and pistols and a', Pistols and guns and a', He'll quickly see Donald M'Donald, Wi guns and pistols and a'.
What though we befriendit young Charley, To tell it I dinna think shame; Poor lad he came to us but barely, And reckon'd our mountains his hame. Its true that our reason forbade us, But tenderness carried the day; Had Geordy came friendless amang us, Wi' him we had a' gane away, Sword and buckler and a'. Buckler and sword and a': For George we'll encounter the devil, Wi' sword and buckler and a.'
And O I wad eagerly press him, The keys o' the East to retain; For sude he gie up the possession, We'll soon hae to force them again. Than yield up ae inch wi' dishonour, Though it were my finishing blow, He ave may depend on M'Donald, Wi's Highland men all in a row. Knees and elbows and a', Elbows and knees and a'; Depend upon Donald M'Donald, His knees and elbows and a'.
If Bonaparte land at Fort William, Auld Europe nae langer sal grane; I laugh when I think how we'll gall him, Wi' bullet, wi' steel, and wi' stane. Wi' rocks o' the Nevis and Gairy, We'll rattle him aff frae our shore; Or lull him asleep in a carney, And sing him Lochaber no more. Stanes and bullets and a', Bullets and stanes and a'; We'll finish the Corsican callan Wi' stanes and bullets and a'.
The Gordon is gude in a hurry, And Campbell is steel to the bane, And Grant, and M'Kenzie, and Murray, And Cameron will hurkle to nane. The Stuart is sturdy and wannel, And sae is M'Leod and M'Kay, And I, their gude-brither, M'Donald, Shall ne'er be the last in the fray. Brogues and brochen and a', Brochen and brogues and a', And up wi' the bonny blue bonnet, The kilt and the feather and a'.
