The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees is the high-road
that leads him to England.

The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees is the high-road
that leads him to England.

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.

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 all my travels I never met with any one Scotchman but what was
a man of sense. I read more

In all my travels I never met with any one Scotchman but what was
a man of sense. I believe everybody of that country that has
any, leaves it as fast as they can.

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!

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?

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.

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.