Cameron's Welcome hame

O strike your harp, my Mary,

Its loudest liveliest key,

And join the sounding Correi

In its wild melodie.

For burn, and breeze, and billow,

Their sang are a' the same,

And every waving willow

Sounds, "Cameron's welcome hame."

O list yon thrush, my Mary,

That warbles on the pine!

Its strain so light and airy,

Accords in joy with thine

The lark that soars to heaven,

The sea-bird on the faem,

Are singing from morn 'till even,

"Brave Cameron's welcome hame."

D'ye mind, my ain dear Mary,

When we hid in the tree,

And saw our Auchnacary,

All flaming fearfully?

The fire was red, red glaring,

And ruefu' was the pine,

And aye you cried despairing,

My father's ha's are gane.

I said, my ain wee Mary,

D'ye see yon cloud sae dun,

That sails aboon the cary,

And hides the weary sun?

Behind yon cloud sae dreary,

Beyond and far within,

There's ane, my dear wee Mary,

That views this deadly sin.

He sees this ruefu' reavery,

The rage of dastard knave;

He saw our deeds of bravery,

And he'll reward the brave.

Though a' we had was given

For loyalty and faith,

I still had hopes that heaven

Would right the heroes' scaith.

The day is dawned in heaven,

For which we a' thought lang;

The good, the just, is given

To right our nation's wrang,

My ain dear Auchnacary,

I ha'e thought lang for thee,

O sing to your harp, my Mary,

And sound its bonniest key.