Isle of Skye

pipers & drummers sport the MacLeod tartan

The castle of Dunvegan has been home to the seat of the MacLeods for over 400 years. It is also home to the Fiary Flag. Many years ago, it is said, the Chieftain of the MacLeods fell in love with the Princess of the Fae. After a year of handfasting, she was required to return to the fairies. But to the son she left behind she gave a special piece of cloth, forever known as the blessed Fairy Falg. Three-fold protection is its charm, and has worked the first two times the MacLeods have used it in battle. The MacLeods promised its support during WWII to the Queen of England, should it be needed, but it remains untouched. Many soldiers and others through out history have carried copies in their wallets for luck. It is truly a symbol of hope for Skye, Scotland, and the world.

After the Battle of Culloden in 1746, Prince Charlie fled for his life from the English. Though a large sum was placed upon his head, he was given shelter by every house he came upon and not one betrayed him. Upon reaching the west coast, a young woman named Flora MacDonald further helped him. Dressed as a woman, he passed as her servant as they travelled to the Isle of Skye. From there, he safely got passage to France.


The Skye Boat Song

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing Onward the sailors cry Carry the lad who's born to be king Over the seas to Skye Loud the wind howls, loud the waves roar, Thunderclaps rend the air Baffled our foes, stand by the shore Follow they will not dare Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing Onward the sailors cry Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to Skye Many's the lad fought on that day Well the claymore did wield When the night came, silently lain Dead on Culloden field Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing Onward the sailors cry Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to Skye Though the waves heave, soft will ye sleep Ocean's a royal bed Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep Watch by your weary head Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing Onward the sailors cry Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to Skye Burned are our homes, exile and death Scatter the loyal men Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath Charlie will come again. ~traditional folk song