O, the Thistle o' scotland was
famous of auld,
Wi' its toorie sae snod and its bristles sae bauld;
Tis the Badge o' my Country, it's aye dear tae me,
and thocht o' them baith brings the licht tae ma e'e.
It's strength and its beauty
the storm never harms;
It stan's on its guard like a warrior in arms;
Yet its down is as saft as the gull's on the sea,
And its tassle as bricht as my Jeanie's blue e'e.
O, my country, what wonder yer fame's gane afar;
For yer sons hae been great baith in peace and in war;
While the sang and the tale live they'll aye win respect,
The lads neath the bonnets wi' thistles bedeckt.
Lang syne the invaders cam owre to our shore,
And fiercely our Thistle they scutched and they tore;
When they maist thocht it deid, twas then it up bore,
And it bloomed on their graves quite as strong as before.
My blessings be yours. Is there Scotsman ava
Wad stan' by and see ony harm on ye fa' ?
Is there gentle or semple wha lives in our land
Wad refuse to drink health to the Thistle sae grand.