The best man has left us standing
here at the bar as he stands
in the mountain mists.
Lift, lift and toast a glass for him.
He carried his steel with pride
and wore his colors well.
A glass! A glass! Lift and toast a glass!
Kilt and sword he stands herein
in the mists and in our hearts.
A glass, a glass! Lift, toast, and drink a glass!
Unused his claymore hangs,
unworn his kilt now lies.
"Avast! To arms and kilt now fly!"
he cries o'er hill and glen.
A glass, a glass. Please, for him, let us pour