Tartan plaid/The Tartan Plaid
THE TARTAN PLAID.
The highland tartan plaid, renown'd,
And bonnet blue, an' a' that,
Has been with martial glory crown'd,
Out owre the world, an' a' that.
An' a' that, an' a' that,
Unconquer'd still, an' a' that,
The gallant badge of Liberty,
An' Freedom's cause, an' a' that.
First, Julius Cæsar, in our isle,
Wi' battering rams, an' a' that,
Drew up his legions, rank and file,
In battle line, an' a' that.
With spear and lance, an' a' that,
And ten to ane, an' a' that;
But death our brave ancestors chose,
Than flee ae inch for a' that.
Our Scottish Kings, on ait meal brose,
And cogs o' whey, an' a' that,
In tartan fought and beat their foes,
And made them rin, an' a' that.
Norwegians fierce, an' a' that,
The Picts and Danes, an' a' that,
Fled frae our noble highland clans,
The braid claymore, an' a' that.
Then let us hail the natal day
Of Wallace brave, an' a' that;
And sing how Edward ran away
Frae Bannockburn, an' a' that.
Our Wallace brave, an' a' that,
King Robert Bruce, an' a' that,
Hae aften crapt the English rose,
And laurels won, an' a' that.
May Caledonia flourish still,
The bonnet blue, an' a' that;
And heroes wha their blood wad spill
In freedom's cause, an' a' that.
Our liberties, an' a' that,
Our King, our laws, an' a' that;
And never let tyrannic power
Rule Scotia's sons, an' a' that.