Born in the damp winds and raised in the hills
Those who reach manhood have iron-like will.
By the reavers and rovers and brigands, it's known,
A 'Marchman looks after his clan and his own.

Chorus:
So hae for the highlands and low for the low
Leave a 'March breathing he'll strike the last blow.
As the chieftain of Castille so angrily knows,
The thistle bows not to the rose.

The Montaigne ladies charm with their glances and sighs,
But give me a lassie with fire in her eyes.
'March girls are pretty, they're long and they're lean
And sharper of wit then a dirk at its keen.

But loving the women's like juggling with knives
Too many at once, and men, look to your lives.
But find yourself one girl and stay to her true
She'll fight at your back and share in all you do.

Chorus

Now some say we're viscious and heartless and cruel,
But a 'March's a survivor and nobody's fool.
We've weathered the ages and wages of strife.
Betimes it takes hard men to lead a hard life.

So pipe till the blood sings and drink liquid fire.
Watch where ye tread lest ye risk Marchen ire.
And mark ye the words of the MacIntosh clan,
"Touch not the cat without a gloved hand."

Chorus (2x)

The thistle bows not to the red Castille rose!

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