In misty Scotland north of the border Lochs and hills adorn its warder Mornillg mists descend in a shawl On the ancient isles we stand in awe

Brave Scots so proud in their tartan plaids Hold fast Old Glory in every raid And courage runs high in the wind and rain As they march and fight in Scotland’s plain

Gentle rolling hills, silent and still Where first smiles are born on the dales so still Brave Wallace sought victory and more Oh Scotland fair, of thee I adore!