Oh flower of Scotland,
when will we see your like again
that fought and died for
your wee bit hill and Glen.
And stood against him,
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again
The hills are bare now
And Autumn leaves lie thick and still
O'er land that is lost now'
Which those so dearly held.
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again.
Those days are past now
And in the past they must remain
But we can still rise now
And be the Nation again.
That stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again.
Scots who hae wi Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has often lead,
Welcome to your gory bed
Or to Victory.
Now's the day and now's the hour
See the front o battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's pow'r
Chains and Slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha will fill a cowards grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave.
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotlands King and law
Freedoms sword will surely draw
Freedom stand or freedom fa"?
Let him follow me.
By Oppression's woes and pains
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins
But they shall be free
Lay the proud unsurped low!
Tyrants fall in ev'ry foe
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do or die.
Far frae my hame I wonder but still my thoughts return
To my ain folks ower yonder in the sheiling by the burn.
I see the cosy ingle, and the mist abune the brae.
And Joy and sadness mingle as I list some
auld- world lay.
And it's Oh how I'm longing for my ain folk
Tho' they be but lowly, puir and plain folk'
I am far beyond the sea
But my heart will ever be
At hame in dear old Scotland wi' my ain folk'
Oh their absent ane they're telling
The auld folks by the fire,
And I mark the swift tears welling
As the ruddy flame leaps higher.
How my mither wid caress me were I but by her side,
Now she prays that Heav'n will bless me
Thro' the stormy seas divide
And It's Oh how I'm longing for my ain folk
Tho' they be but lowly, puir and plain folk'
I an far beyond the sea
But my heart will ever be
At hame in dear old Scotland wi' my ain folks.
Keep us from being like porridge,
Slow to boil and hard to stir,
And make us like cornflakes
Always prepared and ready to serve
Amen