Scots! wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots! wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victory.

Now's the day, an' now's the hour,
See the front of battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's pow'r;
Edward, chains, an' slavery.

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Traitor, coward, turn an' flee.

Wha for Scotland's king an' law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa',
Caledonian, on wi' me.

By oppression's woes and pains;
By your sons in servile chains;
We will drain our dearest veins.
But they shall be, shall be free.

Lay the proud usurpers low,
Tyrants fall in ev'ry foe;
Liberty's in every blow,
Forward—let us do or die.