The Young Volunteers frae the vale o' the Nith,
May their herts never fail, nor their airms lose their pith.
As we hear o' their daurin', oor hert it aye cheers,
An' we pray for the lads in the Young Volunteers.
The day will sune dawn, in the East an' the West,
Whaur oor brave lads are gieing the foemen nae rest.
The fecht will be owre when the morning appears,
Wi' victory's croon for the Young Volunteers.
Some are awa' tae the Land o' the Leal,
Forgotten are bullets an' deidly cauld steel,
Whaur there's angels, bricht angels, tae wipe awa' tears,
An' the watchword is love, wi' oor ain Volunteers.