Robert Burns

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy read more

My dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent,
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!

And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

Be Briton still to Britain true,
Among oursel's united;
For never but by British hands
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Be Briton still to Britain true,
Among oursel's united;
For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted.

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
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John Anderson, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonny brow was brent.