SCOTTISH GLORY.
Scotch sodgers true, wi’ bonnets blue,
Did never in our days, man,
Frae people a’, baith great and sma’,
E'er get sae muckle praise, man:
For wi’ their brose an’ tartan hose,
They made the French to rue, man,
The bauld attack which they did mak
On Scots at Waterloo, man.
Chorus, Fal lal de ral lal, &c.
A philibeg’s the Frenchmens’ plague,
The sight they canna bear, man;
An’ aff they rin to save their skin,
When Highland pipes they hear, man;
But if they chance for to advance
To fight us ance or twice, man,
Our Highland lads will cast their plaids,
And drive them down like mice, man.
For ten years past, a’ that did list
Have been right sair put till’t, man;
And mony a braw Scotsman did fa’
That wore a tartan kilt, man.
For lang in Spain, wi’ might and main,
They fought owre howes and braes, man
