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Let Italy boast of her glee gilded waters

Her beams and her bowers and her soft sunny skies

Her sons drinking love from the eyes of her daughters

Where freedom outblows amid softness and sighs

Scotland's blue highbergs wind where hoary cliffs are lined

Standing in arness are dearer to me

Land of the misty cloud land of the thory loud

Land of the stal and proud land of the free

Spryingly flowing umb her own highland hills

The ferth of Scotland redes fearless and free

Her green winkle waving over blue rock and well

And proudly she sings looking over the sea

Here among my highbergs wild I have fainly smiled

When landfyrds and anwealds against me were hurled

Steady as my arland rock I have withstood the shock

Of England, of Denmark, or Rome and the world

But see how proudly her wye steeds are striding

Deep groves of steel trodden down in their path

The eyes of my sons like their bright swords are yeming

Sigorly riding through forspill and death

Bold hearts and nodding feathers wave over their bloody graves

Deep eyed in gore is the green winkle's call

Shivering are the rows of steel bale is the horseman's wheel

Holying in hilding Scotland the tall

Bold hearts and nodding feathers wave over their bloody graves

Deep eyed in gore is the green winkle's call

Shivering are the rows of steel bale is the horseman's wheel

Galdery in gouth Scotland the tall

Winningly in wye Scotland for ever


original song here

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