On a dark and fateful morning, they rode into our town,
They burned down all our houses with permission from the crown.
Slaughtered all our cattle, took away our women...
They k**ed all our young men before they could give battle
So hold your claymores, hold them high...
To break our will you can try...
But we will fight you till the end...
Our will unbroken you cannot bend!
We grew up ever fearful, that they might come back,
Those government dragoons on their horses of black.
But we have grown strong now and are ready to fight...
Stand up against those butchers and put them to flight.
So hold your claymores, hold them high...
To break our will you can try...
But we will fight you till the end...
Our will unbroken you cannot bend!
The Cameron of Locheil, led the clans that day,
Before the bloody battle he shouted make them pay.
We charged with dirk and claymore... fuelled by our hate...
To see the fear on their faces as they realised their fate...
So hold your claymores, hold them high...
To break our will you can try...
But we will fight you till the end...
Our will unbroken you cannot bend!
As we sit around this fire, and think on the past...
And how we stood against them down to the last.
Think on friends and kinsmen, that we left behind...
And on Scotland's glory that we fought to find.
So hold your claymores, hold them high...
To break our will you can try...
But we will fight you till the end...
Our will unbroken you cannot bend!
So hold your claymores, hold them high...
To break our will you can try...
But we will fight you till the end...
Our will unbroken you cannot bend!
So hold your claymores, hold them high...
To break our will you can try...
But we will fight you till the end!