Hark! When the night is falling
Hear, Hear! the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling, down through the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.

Chorus
(Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.)

High in the misty Highlands,
Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maidens' eyes.

Chorus

Far off in sunlit places,
Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the kiss of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming,
Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.

Chorus

Drums in my heart are drummin,
I hear the bagpipes hummin,
My Bonnie Lassie's comin over the sea.
My heart with her she's bringin,
I hear the blue bells ringin,
Soon we'll be highland flingin,
My love and me.

Chorus:
(I'll meet her at the shore,
Playin the pipes for her,
Dressed in a kilt and a tam o'shanter too.
Drums in my heart are drummin,
I hear the bagpipes hummin,
My Bonnie Lassie's comin, comin to me.)

Somewhere a ship and crew,
Sails o'er the ocean blue,
Bringing, oh, bringing,
My bonnie back to me.
That's why the drums are drummin,
That's why the pipes are hummin,
My Bonnie Lassie's comin, comin to me.

Chorus

Sad are the lads she's leavin,
Many a sigh they're heavin,
Even the heather's grievin, cryin with dew.
She's left her native highland,
To come and live in my land,
She'll love the folks who smile,
And say, "how-de-do".

Chorus

Let Italy boast of her gay gilded waters,
Her vines and her bowers and her soft sunny skies,
Her sons drinking love from the eyes of her daughters,
Where freedom expires amid softness and sighs.

Scotland's blue mountains wild where hoary cliffs are piled,
Towering in grandeur are dearer tae me,
Land of the misty cloud land of the tempest loud,
Land of the brave and proud land of the free.

Enthroned on the peak of her own highland mountains,
The spirit of Scotia reigns fearless and free,
Her green tartan waving o'er blue rock and fountain,
And proudly she sings looking over the sea.

Here among my mountains wild I have serenely smiled,
When armies and empires against me were hurled,
Firm as my native rock I have withstood the shock,
Of England, of Denmark, of Rome and the world.

But see how proudly her war steeds are prancing,
Deep groves of steel trodden down in their path,
The eyes of my sons like their bright swords are glancing,
Triumphantly riding through ruin and death.

Bold hearts and nodding plumes wave o'er their bloody tombs,
Deepeyed in gore is the green tartan's wave,
Shivering are the ranks of steel dire is the horseman's wheel,
Victorious in battlefield Scotland the brave.

Bold hearts and nodding plumes wave o'er their bloody tombs,
Deepeyed in gore is the green tartan's wave,
Shivering are the ranks of steel dire is the horseman's wheel,
Victorious in battlefield Scotland the brave,
Victorious in battlefield Scotland the brave.