Gars Auld Claes Look Amaist As Weel's

O Scotia! My Dear, My Native Soil! For Whom My Warmest Wish To Heaven Is Sent

Auld Nature Swears The Lovely Dears Her Noblest Work She Classes, O; Her 'prentice Han' She Tried On Man, And Then She Made The Lasses, O!

Misled By Fancy's Meteor Ray, By Passion Driven; But Yet The Light That Led Astray Was Light From Heaven.

It 's Guid To Be Merry And Wise, It 's Guid To Be Honest And True, It 's Guid To Support Caledonia's Cause, And Bide By The Buff And The Blue.

The Lightly-jumping, Glowrin' Trouts, That Thro' My Waters Play.