FOLLOW THE BLACKBIRD

It's often I dream
O' the hills above bonny Wemyss
And Breadalbane sae fair.
I long to be there,
In the country o my kinsmen,
Over moor and mountain way
And the Tummel ever windin' to the Tay.

I weel mind the day
I saddled and rode away
When muskets, targe and sword
And my father's proud words
For I spurned the royal bounty
Of yon Grovian German king
Just to listen to the bonny Blackbird sing.

And I echoed each note
That sprang from his bonny throat
And I followed him well
To Drumossie's dark dell
Where the cream of Scotland's heroes
Fell before the southern host
With the dream of freedom trampled in the dust.

Now they ravage our lands,
The kilt and the claymore banned.
The blackbird's away
In exile to stay,
And the lowland shores of Holland
I must take to for my shame,
For I'm banished and forbidden frae my hame.

But Scots, should you hear
In some distant future here
The clear crystal tone
Of the blackbird's sweet song
Then a fighting force of freedom
Will assemble in the glen
When the blackbird sings for Scotland once again,
When the blackbird sings for Scotland once again.