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 tae 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 bergs
The ferth of Scotland redes fearless and free
Her green winkle waving o'er blue rock and furg
And proudly she sings looking over the sea
Here among my highbergs wild I have fainly smiled
When landfyrds and anwields 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 o'er 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 o'er 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