Whan the sun throws its licht
on prood peaks o great hicht
there's a lowe i yer breist,
an ye mind ye were taen
tae staun aa yer lane,
on the tap o the Law.
I hae sclimmed michty bens
fae saft beauy o glens
whaur ilk view is a feast,
but ma thochts aye still hark
tae that rise like a lark,
for the tap o the Law.
Oh,
there's nae sicht grups mair
than the Tay wi'ts hills fair
an sea skinklin far East -
thon first glisk as a wean
o the land that's yer ain,
fae the tap o the Law.
