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How fain would I change for the wee birdie’s station!
How blythe wad I peep ’neath the green thorny tree!
Enraptur’d to muse, and transported to gaze on
This bonnie wee rosebud—O spare it for me!
O hasten the moment, blest moment of pleasure,
When lock’d to my breast the wee rosebud will be,
United for ever, my soul’s dearest treasure—
Do spare the wee rosebud, spare, spare it for me!


March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale:
Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order?
March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale;
All the blue bonnets are over the border.
Many a banner spread flutters above your head,
Many a crest that is famous in story;
Mount and make ready then, sons of the mountain glen,
Fight for your Queen, and the old Scottish glory.

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;