Tae the lairds i'
convention t'was Claverhouse spoke
E'er the Kings crown go down, there are crowns to be broke
Then each cavalier who loves honour and me
Let him follow the bonnet o' bonnie Dundee.
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, he rides doon the street,
The bells they ring backwards, the drums they are beat,
But the Provost, douce man, says "Just e'en let it be
For the toun is well rid of that de'il o' Dundee."
There are hills beyond Pentland and lands beyond Forth,
Be there lords i' the south, there are chiefs i' the north!
There are brave Duinnewassels, three thousand times three
Will cry "Hey!" for the bonnets o' bonnie Dundee.
Then awa' to the hills, to the lea, to the rocks
Ere I own a usurper, I'll crouch with the fox
And tremble, false whigs, in the midst of your glee
Ye hae no seen the last o' my bonnets and me!