Scotland the Brave

Oh-oh-oh-oh. Oh-oh-oh-oh. Oh-oh-oh-oh. Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh. Hark when the

night is falling, hear, hear the pipes are calling, loudly and proudly

calling down through the glen. There where the hills are

sleeping, now feel the blood a-leaping, high as the spirits

of the old island men. Towering in Gaelic fame, Scotland,

my mountain home. High may your proud standards gloriously wave. Land of my

high endeavor, land of the shining river, land of my heart forever

Scotland the brave. High in the misty highlands. Out by the purple islands.