The lowlands o' Scotland will ne'er be my hame,
Tho' fresh and fair is the gowany lea,
The lowlands o' Scotland will ne'er be my hame,
It will ne'er be like my ain countrie.

In the lowlands o' Scotland nae hills are seen
Rising wi' snaw-white taps sae hie,
And the heather is burnt, and the rose it is fa'en, 
That bloomed sae sweet in my ain countrie.

The lowlands o' Scotland will ne'er be my hame,
And there's no a hame on earth for me,
The clans are a' broken and I am alane,
Thinking upon my ain countrie.