Although the lays o' ither lands
Ha'e mony an artfu' air,
They want the stirrin' melody
An auld man lo'es to hear.
Auld Scotia's sangs hae winnin' charms
Which maks the bosom fain;
And to her sons, that 's far awa',
Wi' thochts o' hame again.
Sweet bygane scenes, and native charms,
They fondly bring to min'
The trystin'-tree and bonny lass,
Wi a' love's dreams langsyne.
Oh! lilt me owre some tender strain,
For weel I lo'e to hear--
Be 't bonny "Broom o' Cowdenknowes,"
And "Bush aboon Traquair."
Or "Banks and braes o' bonny Doon,"
Whaur Robin tuned his lyre;
And "Roslin Castle's" ruined wa's--
Oh! sing, and I'll admire!
For I hae heard auld Scotia's sangs
Sung owre and owre wi' glee;
And the mair I hear their artless strains
They dearer grow to me.
Enchanting strains again they bring,
Fond memory glints alang
To humble bards wha woke the lyre,
And wove the patriot's sang.
Oh! leeze me on our ain auld sangs,
The sangs o' youth and glee;
They tell o' Bruce and glorious deeds,
Which made our country free.