O whither away my bonnie May
Sae late and sae dark in the gloamin?
The mist gathers gray oer moorland and brae.
O whither sae far are ye roamin?
O, yell tak the high road and Ill tak the low.
Ill be in heaven afore ye.
For me and my true love will never meet again
By the bonnie, bonnie banks o Loch Lomond.
I trusted my ain love last night in the broom,
My Donald wha loves me sae dearly.
For the morrow he will march for Edinburgh toon,
Tae fecht for his king and Prince Charlie.
O, weel may I weep for yestreen in my sleep.
We lay bride and bridegroom together.
But his touch and his breath were chilly as the death,
And his heartsblood ran red in the heather.
As dauntless in battle as tender in love,
Hed yield neer a foot tae the foeman.
But never again frae the fields o the slain
Tae his Moira will he come by Loch Lomond.
The thistle may bloom, the king hae his ain,
And fond lovers will meet in the gloamin.
And me and my true love will yet meet again
Far above the bonnie banks o Loch Lomond.
