Where will you go my faithful fair one?

What will you do when ye are on your own?

Whither, oh tell me, shall you wander?

December's hard winds are blowin' cruel and cold



And the snow lies deep

And the rivers white

And the sea is high

Raging is the tide



And may my love ride with you on the road to valor

And may the eye of heaven guide your soul with light

And may your foes be slain with easy hand wherever they be

Fair judgement be there on the day you pay the price



When the battle's nigh

And the pipes blow strong

Hear the battle cry

Of the highland throng



And the snow lies deep

And the rivers white

And the sea is high

Raging is the tide



Where will you go, my faithful fair one?

What will you do when you are on your own?

Whither, tell me, shall you wander?

December's hard winds are blowin' cruel and cold



When the battle's nigh

And the pipes blow strong

Hear the battle cry

Of the highland throng



And the snow lies deep

And the rivers white

And the sea is high

Raging is the tide



When the battle's nigh

And the pipes blow strong

Hear the battle cry

Of the highland throng



Where will you go my faithful fair one?