Hurrah for Scotland's ancient flag!
Now floating on the breeze; Its every wave in vision paints
A clime beyond the seas.

And, as that music fills the air
Which breathes of mountain-steep, Our spirits wander back again
To where our fathers sleep.

Again we hear the dashing foam
Which plunges down the dell; Or ramble o'er the broomy knowes,
Or cull the sweet bluebell.

Or sit in restful gloaming-tide,
'Neath honeysuckle porch, And watch the tewhits winging low
Beyond the old, grey church,

As balmy breath of briar and thyme
Comes wafted o'er the moor, And sheds the gold, laburnum fringe
Upon its grassy floor.

The Cora Lynn yet sings the dirge
And deeds of Wallace wight; Whilst Bannockburn still echoes forth
Who bravely died for right.

Oh! beauteous, tender mountain land!
Where'er thy children roam, Along their lives the heartstrings thrill
To tune of "Home! sweet Home!"

Thy halls of learning grace the earth,
And dignify the name Which side by side hath ever stood
With honor, truth and fame.

Thy sons, who now with strong, right arm
The stone and hammer wield, Type well the sires who glory gained,
Or perished on the field.

Now, three cheers for our Highland Chief!
Three more for the Macneill![Note] Three for all those who fondly prize
The land we love sae weel!

And three cheers for our noble Queen!
Who from the Bruce descends; Whose life, attuned to sympathy,
A nation's love defends.