By the left, quick march, Crua chan! It was seven hundred and forty-five The highland spirit had revived Mac Dougall and Mac Donald there The clans had come from everywhere, singing Fee fi fo fum I smell the blood of a Englishman Fee fi fo fum Come on London, here we come We went all the way down south We were frothening at the mouth Coming down to Derby town We'd beaten everyone around, singing Fee fi fo fumé I smell the blood of a Englishman Fee fi fo fum Come on England, here we come Singing! We ended at Culloden moor Feeling bad and feeling poor The redcoats had chased us there There we died and there we stayed, singing Fee fi fo fum I smell the blood of a Scotsman Fee fi fo fum United Kingdom here we come We the Bonnie prince has gone back home He's never gonna come back We the Bonnie prince has gone back home He's never gonna come back We'ldo to you at Wembley We'll do it to you in pubs With the Scottish louts larking about Here come your rats, cruachan lad