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Here's a health to them that's awa',
Here's a health to them that's awa';

Here's Chieftain McLeod, a chieftain worth gowd,
Though bred amang mountains o' snaw!
Here's friends on baith sides o' the Forth,
And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed;

And wha wad betray Old Albion's rights,
May they never eat of her bread!

Robert Burns [1759-1796]

THE BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND

OH where! and oh where! is your Highland laddie gone? He's gone to fight the French for King George upon the throne;

And it's oh! in my heart how I wish him safe at home.

Oh where! and oh where! does your Highland laddie dwell! He dwells in merry Scotland at the sign of the Blue Bell; And it's oh! in my heart that I love my laddie well.

What clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad? His bonnet's of the Saxon green, his waistcoat's of the plaid; And it's oh! in my heart that I love my Highland lad.

Suppose, oh suppose, that your Highland lad should die? The bagpipes shall play over him, I'll lay me down and cry; And it's oh! in my heart that I wish he may not die!

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THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY

YE Highlands and ye Lawlands,

O where hae ye been?

They hae slain the Earl of Murray,
And hae laid him on the green.

Now wae be to thee, Huntly!
And wherefore did ye sae?
I bade you bring him wi' you,
But forbade you him to slay.

Pibroch of Donald Dhu

He was a braw gallant,
And he rid at the ring;
And the bonny Earl of Murray,
O he might hae been a king!

He was a braw gallant,

And he played at the ba';
And the bonny Earl of Murray
Was the flower amang them a'!

He was a braw gallant,

And he played at the gluve; And the bonny Earl of Murray, O he was the Queen's luve!

O lang will his Lady

Look owre the Castle Doune, Ere she see the Earl of Murray

Come sounding through the toun!

PIBROCH OF DONALD DHU

PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu,

Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,

Summon Clan-Conuil!
Come away, come away,

Hark to the summons!

Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.

Come from deep glen, and

From mountain so rocky;

The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid, and

True heart that wears one;
Come every steel blade, and

Strong hand that bears one.

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Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;

Leave the

corpse uninterred,

The bride at the altar;

Leave the deer, leave the steer,

Leave nets and barges:
Come with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.

Come as the winds come, when

Forests are rended:

Come as the waves come, when

Navies are stranded!
Faster come, faster come,

Faster and faster

Chief, vassal, page, and groom,

Tenant and master!

Fast they come, fast they come—

See how they gather!

Wide waves the eagle plume,

Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades,

Forward each man set!

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,

Kneel for the onset!

Walter Scott [1771-1832]

BORDER BALLAD

From "The Monastery "

MARCH, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale;

Why the de'il dinna ye march forward in order? March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale!

All the Blue Bonnets are bound for 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 the Queen and our old Scottish glory.

"When Banners Are Waving" 2207

Come from the hills where the hirsels are grazing;
Come from the glen of the buck and the roe;
Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing;
Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.
Trumpets are sounding;

War-steeds are bounding;

Stand to your arms, then, and march in good order.
England shall many a day

Tell of the bloody fray

When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border.

Walter Scott [1771-1832]

"WHEN BANNERS ARE WAVING"

WHEN banners are waving, and lances are pushing;
When captains are shouting, and war-horses rushing;
When cannon are roaring, and hot bullets flying,
He that would honor win, must not fear dying.

Though shafts fly so quick that it seems to be snowing;
Though streamlets with blood more than water are flowing;
Though with sabre and bullet our bravest are dying,
We speak of revenge, but we ne'er speak of flying.

Come, stand to it, heroes! The heathen are coming;
Horsemen are round the walls, riding and running;
Maidens and matrons all Arm! arm! are crying,
From petards the wildfire's flashing and flying.
The trumpets from turrets high loudly are braying;
The steeds for the onset are snorting and neighing;
As waves in the ocean, the dark plumes are dancing;
As stars in the blue sky, the helmets are glancing.

Their ladders are planting, their sabres are sweeping;
Now swords from our sheaths by the thousand are leaping;
Like the flash of the levin, ere men hearken thunder,
Swords gleam, and the steel caps are cloven asunder.
The shouting has ceased, and the flashing of cannon!
I looked from the turret for crescent and pennon:
As flax touched by fire, as hail in the river,

They were smote, they were fallen, and had melted for ever.

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THE BRITISH GRENADIERS

SOME talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules;

Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these; But of all the world's brave heroes, there's none that can

compare,

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadier.

Those heroes of antiquity ne'er saw a cannon ball,

Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal;
But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.

Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades,
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades;
We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies' ears;
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grena-
diers.

And when the seige is over, we to the town repair,

The townsmen cry "Hurra, boys, here comes a grenadier, Here comes the grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears,

Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers."

Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those
Who carry cups and pouches, and wear the loupèd clothes;
May they and their commanders live happy all their years,
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grena-
diers.

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HEART OF OAK

COME, cheer up, my lads! 'tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year:
To honor we call you, not press you like slaves;
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?

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