O who will play the silver whistle
When my king's son to sea is going?
To Scotland prepares, prepares [bad word] Upon a large ship o'er the ocean

The ship it has three masts of silver
With ropes so light of french silk woven
Upon each end are fixed golden pulleys
To bring my king's son ashore and landed.

When my king's son [bad word] back home
No girdle scones will food be for him
But loaves of bread, bread will be baking
For Charles with eyes so enticing.

O [bad word] to you, fame and honour
Fiddles and choice tunes attend you
I will be dancing, I will be singing
And I will play the silver whistle.

And I will play the silver whistle.