The Campbells marched to the beat
o' a traitorous drum
When they told the trusting MacDonalds that they would come
And help to unite the scattered Highland clans
When in truth the Campbells had in mind some other plans.
For they had taken sil'er from Englishmen
To betray the bedraggled Scots in a mountain Glen
Under the guise of a willing and friendly clan
They smote the MacDonald highlanders to a man.
I heard the feet that should nay have
March to the beat of a different drum,
March on through the sleeping Glen
With bloodstained hands marched Campbell's men.
I lay and watched in a cold Glencoe
Amidst purple heather and bloodstained snow.
I lay and watched as the Claymores fell
Dispatching the MacDonalds to an English Hell.
I heard the feet that should not have
March away to the fife and drum.
They'd been welcomed around the MacDonald fire
Not knowing that night what would transpire.
When those fires died and the Glencoe night
Cloaked their treacherous deeds, in feint half light,
The Campbells rose and slew their sleeping hosts,
Now Glencoe echos with the sound of MacDonald ghosts.