Only a few industrious Scots perhaps, who indeed are dispersed
over the face of the whole earth. But as read more

Only a few industrious Scots perhaps, who indeed are dispersed
over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there are no
greater friends to Englishmen and England, when they are out
on't, in the world, than they are. And for my own part, I would
a hundred thousand of them were there [Virginia] for we are all
one countrymen now, ye know, and we should find ten times more
comfort of them there than we do here.

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom
Nor forced him wander, but confine him home.

Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom
Nor forced him wander, but confine him home.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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,