There’s many a man of the Cameron Clan,
That has follow’d his chief to the field;
He has sworn to support him or die by his side,
For a Cameron never can yield.
Chorus:
For I hear the pibrochs sounding,
Deep o’er the mountain and glen,
While light springing footsteps are trampling the heather,
‘Tis the march of the Cameron men.
Oh! proudly they walk, but each Cameron knows
He may tread on the heather no more;
But boldly he follows his chief to the field,
Where his laurels were gather’d before.
The moon has arisen, it shines on the path
Now trod by the gallant and true;
High, high are their hopes, for their chieftain has said,
That whatever men dare they can do.
