Roch the wind in the clear days dawin
Blows the cloods heelstre-gowdie ow'r the bay
But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin
Through the great glen o' the warld the day
It's a thocht that will gar oor rottans
A' they rogues that gang gallus, fresh and gay
Tak the road, and seek ither loanins
For their ill ploys, tae sport and play

Nae mair will the bonnie callants
Mairch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw
Nor wee weans frae pit-heid and clachan
Mourn the ships sailing doon the Broomielaw
Broken faimlies in lands we've herriet
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mair, nae mair
Back and white, ane ti ither mairriet
Mak the vile barracks o' thier maisters bare

O come all ye at hame wi' Freedom
Never heid whit the hoodies croak for doom
In your hoose a' the bairnes o' Adam
Can find breid, barley-bree and painted room
When Maclean meets wi's friens in Springburn
A' the roses and geens will turn tae bloom
And a black boy frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o' the burghers doon