My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean and other Scottish songs

To my dear Irish-Scottish nanny Elspeth (Elizabeth) Wilkie, who used to sing these songs to me in Versailles in the 1950s and 1960s.

Auld Alliance !

R.I.P.

Pierre-Olivier Combelles

My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me.

[Chorus]
Bring back, bring back,
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me, to me.
Bring back, bring back,
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me.

Oh, blow ye winds over the ocean,
Oh, blow ye winds over the sea,
Oh, blow ye winds over the ocean,
And bring back my Bonnie to me.

[Repeat Chorus]

Last night as I lay on my pillow,
Last night as I lay on my bed,
Last night as I lay on my pillow,
I dreamt that my Bonnie was dead.

[Repeat chorus]

The winds have blown over the ocean,
The winds have blown over the sea,
The winds have blown over the ocean,
And brought back my Bonnie to me.

My bonnie moorhen, my bonnie moorhen,
Up in the grey hill, doon in the glen;
It's when ye gang but the house, when ye gang ben,
Aye drink a health to my bonnie moorhen.
    
My bonnie moorhen's gane over the main
And it will be simmer or she comes again;
But when he comes back again some folk will ken,
joy be with thee, my bonnie moorhen.

My bonnie moorhen has feathers anew,
She's a' fine colours, but nane o' them blue.
She's red and she's white and she's green and she's grey,
My bonnie moorhen, come hither away.
    
Come up by Glenduich and down by Glendee,
And round by Kinclaven and hither to me;
For Ronald and Donald are oot on the fen
Tae break the wing of my bonnie moorhen.

My bonnie moorhen's gane over the main
And it will be simmer or she comes again;
But when he comes back again some folk will ken,
joy be with thee, my bonnie moorhen.

joy be with thee, my bonnie moorhen.

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,

Thunderclaps rend the air;
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare.

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.

Many's the lad, fought on that day
Well the claymore did wield;
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden's field.

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Ocean's a royal bed.
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.

Burned are their homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men;
Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.