Where grows the red heather
And Thistle so green.
⟨Far⟩ famed are our sires in the battles of yore,
⟨And⟩ many a cairney does rise on our shore,
⟨O’er⟩ the foes that invaded the Thistle so green,
⟨And⟩ many a cairney shall rise o’er our strand,
⟨Should⟩ the torrent of war ever pour o’er our
land,
We’ll give them a welcome, we’ll give them a
grave,
Beneath the red heather
And Thistle so green.
⟨Oh!⟩ dear to our souls are these blessings of
heaven,
⟨That⟩ land which we boast of—that land which
we live in,
⟨The⟩ land of the Thistle—the thistle so green,
⟨for⟩ that land, and that freedom our forefathers
bled,
⟨And⟩ we swear by the blood that our fathers have
shed,
That no foot of a foe shall e’er tread on their
grave,
But the Thistle shall blossom o’er the bed of the brave,
The Thistle of Scotland
The Thistle so green.
