O' Scotland ©

O' grain covered crackled lands
tae horizons that are nae mans
I've heard o' tha mysteries o' this fair Isle
an o' tha traditions established in tha maids O Kyle.

Frae ancient tomb chambers o' Celtic Kings
tae tha battle cries o' tha ancients protrade in songs they sing
O' tha Glimmering beams o' that Bardic Druidaic stream
an tha establishment o' laylines through oot this lan a seam.

O' darkened Nichts when tha witches tae tha coven dae rise
an o' auld Tam O' Shanters gran surprise
Frae tha fire filled holes whare tha Deil does Stan'
Tae tha drench covered coves whare tha Vikins would lan.

O' those citidels o' ample magnitude
an o' tha vast Abbeys representative o' medieval attitude
Whare Kings were born tae rule these fields
an fa which Gran Queen Mary her head would yeild.

O' pleasure thrown drunkeness in taverns there
an tha beauty o' Scots wemen folk fair
O' pursuing lan Lairds an vice corrupted official seals
as wae muggers in tha black markets they'd mak their Deals.

Tae tha bloodstained fields across this lan
an tha Proclaimation o' yin John Knox's protestant han
Ye'er Majesty an beauty engraved upon ye'er country side
Aye, frae that Firth o' Forth tae tha Firth o' Clyde

Ye'er tha lingering song o' a thousand Dreams
tha licht o' tha He'rt, tha pride that Gleams.