| My lovely...
Scotia...
When sitting here this nicht alane...
And thinking thochts baith daft and sane...
And wondering whar the hell Išve gane...
Since leaving....
Scotia...
Ye wee cauld place that harbours such...
A fierce proud race that nane can touch...
Yešve given this warld sae very much...
My lovely...
Scotia...
My tears doon fa when on I think...
Oš Highborn Lord or Low Bred Tink...
The twa baith different...but a link...
Wiš my dearest...
Scotia...
My tortured mind and crying heart...
The thoct oš having to depart...
O precious memory... such thou art...
My misty...
Scotia...
My wild Northeast oš red sandstane...
Whar lonely castle stands alane...
Proud in the memory... not in vain...
The struggle for...
Scotia...
Land oš my birth and constant pride...
Yešll be forever at my side...
When into Deathšs embrace Išll stride...
And think of naught...but...
Scotia...
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