The Thistle

Hurrah for the thistle! the brave Scottish thistle,
The evergreen thistle of Scotland for me!
A fig for the flowers, in your lady-built bowers--
The strong-bearded, weel-guarded thistle for me!

'Tis the flower the proud eagle greets in its flight,
When he shadows the stars with the wings of his might;
'Tis the flower that laughs at the storm as it blows,
For the stronger the tempest, the greener it grows!
Hurrah for the thistle, &c.

Round the love-lighted hames o' our ain native land--
On the bonneted brow, on the hilt of the brand--
On the face o' the shield, 'mid the shouts o' the free,
May the thistle be seen where the thistle should be!
Hurrah for the thistle, &c.

Hale hearts we hae yet to bleed in its cause;
Bold harps we hae yet to sound its applause;
How, then, can it fade, when sic chiels an' sic cheer,
And sae mony braw sprouts o' the thistle are here?
Then hurrah for the thistle! the brave Scottish thistle,
The evergreen thistle of Scotland for me!
A fig for the flowers in your lady-built bowers--
The strong-bearded, well-guarded thistle for me!