Flora Macdonald's Lament

Far over yon hills of the heather so green
And down by the corrie that sings to the sea
The bonnie young Flora sat sighing her lane
The dew on her plaid and the tear in her e'e.
She looked at a boat with the breezes that swung
Away on the wave like a bird on the main
And aye as it lessened she sighed and she sung
Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again.
Farewell to my hero, the gallant and young
Farewell to the lad I shall ne'er see again.
The moorcock that craws on the brow of Ben Connal
He kens o' his bed in a sweet mossy hame
The eagle that soars on the cliffs of Clanronald
Unawed and unhunted, his eyrie can claim
The solan can sleep on his shelve of the shore
The cormorant roost on his rock of the sea
But oh! There is one whose hard fate I deplore
Nor house, manor hame, in this country has he
The conflict is past and our name is no more
There's nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me.

The target is torn from the arm of the just
The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave
The claymore forever in darkness must rust
But red is the sword of the stranger and slave
The hoof of the horse and the foot of the proud
Have trod o'er the plumes on the bonnet of blue
Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud
When tyranny revelled in blood of the true?
Farewell, my young hero! The gallant and good
The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy brow.