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Call up the lads of Sutherland,
Call up the men of Ross,
Turn from the land, it’s time to turn drover.
Lead the sheep back to the lowlands,
Ram, ewe, shepherd and lamb,
Mark well the year of the sheep.

 Bliadhna nan Caorach (x 2.)

We’ll nae listen to our laird.
Whose side is he on?
He has forgotten his loyal taxmen,
For the greed of the Saxon.
McLeod, Monroe and their Lowland gang,
Mark well the year of the sheep.

 Bliadhna nan Caorach (x 2.)

We drove them over mountainside,
And through the braes sae green,
Redcoats with bayonets they sent to greet us,
Though we’d nae harmed one of their creatures,
Tenants, farmers, cotters and all,
Rounded up like so many sheep.

 Bliadhna nan Caorach (x 2.)

Some to face imprisonment,
Some to face Botany Bay,
That was the judge’s cruel intention,
Of our grievance there was no mention,
Those who believe in justice and law,
Mark well the year of the sheep.

 Bliadhna nan Caorach (x 2.)

A prison cell in Inverness,
We were taken to,
But highland guards on us took pity,
Helped us escape out of the city,
Into exile we all fled,
Leaving our wives to sorrow and weep.

 Bliadhna nan Caorach (x 4.)
 

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