Sons of England!--Sons of Erin!
Ye who, journeying from afar,
Throng with us the shire of Coila,
Led by Burns's guiding star--
Proud we greet you--ye will join us,
As, on this triumphant day,
To the champions of his genius
Grateful thanks we duly pay--
Currie--Chambers--Lockhart--Wilson--
Carlyle--who his bones to save
From the wolfish fiend, Detraction,
Couch'd like lions round his grave.