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Why must they always be fighting?
Why can’t they stay at home?
The cold and the frost is biting.
Why must they always roam?
The Gordons, McDonalds, Clan Chattan,
The McIntosh, Campbells, McLeans?
Why must they always be fighting?
The Camerons, McGregors, McBeans?
Why must they always be fighting?
Why can’t they mend the old wall?
Why aren’t they doing the planting?
Why don’t they come when I call?
I’m tired of spinning and knitting,
Of sitting alone by the fire.
Why must they always be fighting
Instead of attending the byre?
Lame Dougal’s no use on the hillside,
At ninety he’s nearly half dead,
Annie’s no hand at the milking
And Willie has taken to bed.
When last my loved ones came home here
They didn’t wait a minute to parley –
“I’ll remount my horse and re-set my course
And go now and fight for Prince Charlie!”
I know they think their cause righteous,
I know they must follow their chief,
But I wish they would all stop their fighting
And causing their countrymen grief.
The food store is all running low now,
We’re living on nothing but oats.
We fear for our kith and our kindred
At the hands of the cruel Red Coats.
I’m tired of digging and hoeing,
I’m forced to do all of the work
While they’re away killing each other
With musket and broadsword and dirk.
Why must they always be fighting
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My father, my husband, my brother,
If they are not here by December
I’m going back home to my mother!
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