IT'S monie a day since first we left
Auld Scotland's rugged hills—
Her heath'ry braes and gow'ny glens,
Her bonnie winding 'rills.
We lo'ed her in the by-gane time,
When life and hope were young,
We lo'e her still, wi' right guid will,
And glory in her tongue!

Can we forget the summer days
Whan we got leave frae schule,
How We gade birrin' down the braes
To daidle in the pool?
Or to the glen we'd slip awa
Where hazel clusters hung,
And wake the echoes o' the hills-
Wi' our auld mither tongue.

Can we forget the lonesome kirk
Where gloomy ivies creep?
Can we forget the auld kirk yard
Where our forefather's sleep?
We'll ne'er forget that glorious land,
Where Scott and Burns sung--
Their sangs are printed on our hearts
In our auld mither tongue.

Auld Scotland land o' mickle fame
The land where Wallace trod,
The land where heartfelt praise ascends
Up to the throne of God!
Land where the Martyrs sleep in peace,
Where infant freedom sprung,
Where Knox in tones of thunder spoke
In our auld mither tongue.

Now Scotland dinna ye be blate
'Mang nations cronsely craw,
Your callants are nae donnert surnphs,
Your lasses bang them a'.
The glisks o' heaven will never fade,
That hope around us flung
When first we breath'd the tale o' love
In our auld mither tongue.

O! let us ne'er forget our hame,
Auld Scotland's hills and cairns,
And let us a' where'er we be,
Aye strive "to he guid bairns
And when we meet wi' want or age
A-hirphng owre a rung,
We'll tak' their part and cheer their heart
Wi' our auld mither tongue.