Argyle is my name, -- and you may think it strange,
To live at a court, and yet never to change:
To faction, or tyranny, equally foe,
The good of the land's the sole motive I know.
The foes of my country and king I have fac'd,
In city or battle I ne'er was disgrac'd,
I've done what I could for my country's weal;
Now I'll feast upon bannocks o' barleymeal.
 
Ye riots and revels of London, adieu;
And folly, ye foplings, I leave her to you.
For Scotland, I mingled in bustle and strife;
For myself, I seek peace, and an innocent life:
I'll haste to the Highlands, and visit each scene
With Maggie my love, in her rockley o' green;
On the banks of Glenary what pleasure I feel,
While she shares my bannock o' barleymeal!
 
And if it chance Maggie should bring me a son,
He shall fight for his king, as his father has done;
I'll hang up my sword with an old soldier's pride;
O! may he be worthy to wear't on his side.
I pant for the breeze of my lov'd native place;
I long for the smile of each welcoming face;
I'll aff to the Highlands as fast's I can reel,
And feast upon bannocks o' barleymeal.