At the Bonnie Prince there standing
The blood of war hard upon his face
His eyes defeated, all hope lost
She covered his pain in a blanket
As best she could
Water to drink and a bit of bread
Ferried him across in the dark of night
The breaking heart of Skye
Set him down on a farther shore
The sun of some other day to come, surely
She thought, as winter before spring
When the bloom of the heather will
Take the hill and dance with the bagpipe
Again.