As I cam' in by Fiddichside, 
on a May morning
I spied Willie MacIntosh 
An hour before the dawning

Turn agin, turn agin, 
turn agin, I bid ye
If ye burn Auchindoun,
Huntly he will heid ye

Heid me or hang me, 
that shall never fear me
I'll burn Auchindoun 
though the life leaves me

As I cam' in by Auchindoun
on a may morning
Auchindoun was in a bleeze 
An hour before the dawning

Crawing, crawing, 
for a' your crouse crawin'
Ye [bad word] your crop an' tint your wings 
an hour before the dawning