SONGS.
THE GARB OF OLD GAUL.
In the garb of old Gaul, wi' the fire of old Rome,
From the heath-cover'd mountains of Scotia we come,
Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain,
But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain.
CHORUS.
Such our love of liberty-our country and our laws,
That like our ancestors of old we stand by freedom's cause;
We'll bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and applause,
And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws.
No effeminate customs our sinews unbrace,
No luxuriate tables enervate our race,
Our loud-sounding pipe bears the true martial strain,
So do we the old Scottish valour retain.
Such our love, &c.
As a storm on the ocean when Boreas blows,
So are we enrag'd when we rush on our foes;
We sons of the mountain, tremendous as rocks,
Dash the force of our foes with our thundering strokes.
Such our love, &c.
