Give me but one hour of Scotland,
Let me see it ere I die.
- William read more

Give me but one hour of Scotland,
Let me see it ere I die.
- William Edmondstoune Aytoun,

In short, he and the Scotch have no way of redeeming the credit
of their understandings, but by avowing read more

In short, he and the Scotch have no way of redeeming the credit
of their understandings, but by avowing that they have been
consummate villains. Stavano bene; per star meglio, stanno qui.

Now the summer's in prime
Wi' the flowers richly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
read more

Now the summer's in prime
Wi' the flowers richly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
A' the moorlands perfuming.
To own dear native scenes
Let us journey together,
Where glad innocence reigns
'Mang the braes o' Balquhither.

The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride;
True is the charge, nor by themselves denied.
Are read more

The Scots are poor, cries surly English pride;
True is the charge, nor by themselves denied.
Are they not then in strictest reason clear,
Who wisely come to mend their fortunes here?

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent;
Long read more

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
For whom my warmest wish to heaven is sent;
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil
Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content.

That knuckle-end of England--that land of Calvin, oat-cakes, and
sulphur.

That knuckle-end of England--that land of Calvin, oat-cakes, and
sulphur.

It's guid to be merry and wise,
It's guid to be honest and true,
It's guid to read more

It's guid to be merry and wise,
It's guid to be honest and true,
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue!

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy read more

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!

Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;-
If there's a hole in read more

Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots,
Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;-
If there's a hole in a' your coats,
I rede you tent it:
A chield's amang you takin notes,
And, faith, he'll prent it.