“Wherever fortune fix your state; Whatever lands you cultivate; Or foreign arts you emulate,

Be this your aim -- Still to be generous, good, and great,

And spread my fame.

“And if, upon an alien shore,

Ye fight, as Gaels have fought before

For Britain’s rights, where cannon roar, Then, children dear,

And ‘Scots wha hae’!” — she said no more, A deaf ’ning cheer

Around that mountain high was heard, Whose sound the slumb’ring echoes stirr’d; The “Forty-twa” and “Ninety-third,” In kilted train, March’d, double quick, to hear the word, And cheer’d again!

Yes! Caledonia now may trace

Her lineage fair, in every place; The bonny, buirdly Scottish race,

Where’er she’ll go. —

Chiels not afraid to show their face To friend or foe.

E’en in Prince Edward’s distant hame, Her sons remember whence they came, And, zealous for their Mither’s fame, From year to year, Kindle the Caledonian flame, Wi’ muckle cheer.

Taught by their sires, the children know The Scottish games, “Of lang ago;” [sic] Cabers and stones and hammers throw About the plains; While lustily her pipers blow Their martial strains.

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