By the left, quick march Crua chan! It was seven hundred and forty-five The highland spirit had revived Mac Dougall and Mac Donald there The clans had come from everywhere, singing I smell the blood of a Englishman Come on London, here we come We went all the way down south We were frothening at the mouth Coming down to Derby town We'd beaten everyone around, singing I smell the blood of a Englishman Come on Englans, here we come Singing! Ended at Culloden moor Feeling bad and feeling poor The redcoats had chased us there There we died and there we stayed, singing I smell the blood of a Scotsman United Kingdom, here we come Yeah The bonnie prince has gone home He's never gonna come back The bonnie prince has gone home He's never gonna come back We'll do to you at Wembley We'll do it to you in pubs With the Scottish louts larking about Here come your rats... cruachan lad