Tae the Lords o' Convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke,

E'er the King's crown go down there are crowns to be broke,

So each cavalier who loves honour and me,

Let him follow the bonnets o' Bonnie Dundee.

 

Chorus :

Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,

Come saddle my horses and call out my men;

Unhook the West Port and let us gae free,

For it's up wi' the bonnets o' Bonnie Dundee.

 

Dundee he is mounted and he rides up the street,

The bells they ring backward and the drums they are beat,

But the provost douce man says 'Just let it be,

For the toon is weel rid o' that devil Dundee.'

 

There are hills beyond Pentland and lands beyond Forth,

If there are lords in the south, there are chiefs in the north,

There are brave duine-wassals three thousand times three,

Cry 'Hey for the bonnets o' Bonnie Dundee.'

 

So awa tae the hills, tae the lee and the rocks,

Ere I own a ursurper I'll crouch with the fox,

So tremble false whigs in the midst o' yir glee,

For ye've no seen the last o' my bonnets and me.