Where will you go my faithful fair one? What will you do when ye are on your own? Whither, oh tell me, shall you wander? December's hard winds are blowin' cruel and cold And the snow lies deep And the rivers white And the sea is high Raging is the tide And may my love ride with you on the road to valor And may the eye of heaven guide your soul with light And may your foes be slain with easy hand wherever they be Fair judgement be there on the day you pay the price When the battle's nigh And the pipes blow strong Hear the battle cry Of the highland throng And the snow lies deep And the rivers white And the sea is high Raging is the tide Where will you go, my faithful fair one? What will you do when you are on your own? Whither, tell me, shall you wander? December's hard winds are blowin' cruel and cold When the battle's nigh And the pipes blow strong Hear the battle cry Of the highland throng And the snow lies deep And the rivers white And the sea is high Raging is the tide When the battle's nigh And the pipes blow strong Hear the battle cry Of the highland throng Where will you go my faithful fair one?