Fam’d for the martial deed, the heaven-taught song,

To thee I turn with swimming eyes!

Where is that soul of Freedom fled?

Immingled with the mighty dead

Beneath that hallow’d turf where Wallace lies!

Hear it not, Wallace, in thy bed of death!

Ye babbling winds, in silence weep!

Disturb not ye the hero’s sleep,

Nor give the coward secret breath!

Is this the ancient Caledonian form,

Firm as the rock, resistless as her storm?

Show me that eye which shot immortal hate,

Blasting the Despot’s proudest bearing!

Show me that arm which, nerved with thundering fate,

Braved Usurpation’s boldest daring!

Dark-quench’d as yonder sinking star,

No more that glance lightens afar,

That palsied arm no more whirls on the waste of war.

A MAN’S A MAN FOR A’ THAT

Is there for honest poverty

That hings his head, an a’ that?

The coward slave, we pass him by –

We dare be poor for a’ that!

For a’ that, an a’ that,

Our toils obscure, an a’ that.

The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,

The man’s the gowd for a’ that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,

Wear hoddin grey, an a’ that?

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,

A man’s a man for a’ that.

For a’ that, an a’ that,

Their tinsel show, an a’ that,

The honest man, tho e’er sae poor,

Is king o men for a’ that.

Ye see yon birkie ca’d ‘a lord,’

Wha struts, an stares, an a’ that?

Tho hundreds worship at his word,

He’s but a coof for a’ that.

For a’ that, an a’ that,

His ribband, star, an a’ that,

The man o independent mind,

He looks an laughs at a’ that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, an a’ that!

But an honest man’s aboon his might –

Guid faith, he mauna fa’ that!

For a’ that, an a’ that,

Their dignities, an a’ that,

The pith o sense an pride o worth,

Are higher rank than a’ that.

Then let us pray that come it may

As come it will for a’ that,

That Sense and Worth o’er a’ the earth,

Shall bear the gree an a’ that.

For a’ that, an a’ that,

It’s comin yet for a’ that,

That man to man, the world o’er

Shall brithers be for a’ that.

DOES HAUGHTY GAUL INVASION THREAT?
Tune: Push about the Jorum

Does haughty Gaul Invasion threat?

Then let the loons beware, Sir!

There’s wooden walls upon our seas

And volunteers on shore, Sir!

The Nith shall run to Corsincon,

And Criffell sink in Solway,

Ere we permit a foreign foe

On British ground to rally!

O, let us not, like snarling tykes,

In wrangling be divided,

Till, slap! come in an unco loon,

And wi a rung decide it!

Be Britain still to Britain true,

Amang ourselves united!

For never but by British hands

Maun British wrangs be righted!

The kettle o the Kirk and State,