Cold the wind on the moors blow Warm the enemy's fire glows Black the harvest of Culloden Pain and fear and death grow
'Twas love of our prince drove us on to Drumossie But in scarcely the time that it takes me to tell The flower of our country lay scorched by an army As ruthless and red as the embers of hell
Red Campbell and fox did the work of the English MacDonald in anger did no work at all With musket and cannon 'gainst honor and courage The invader's men stood while our clansmen did fall
Now mothers and children are left to their weeping With only the memory of father and son Turned out of their homes to make shelter for strangers The blackest of hours on this land has begun