Hark when the night is falling,
Hear, hear the pipes are calling;
Loudly and proudly calling
Down through the glen.
There, where the hills are sleeping,
Now feel the blood a'leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.
Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland, my mountain hame;
Highly its proud standards gloriously wave.
Land of the high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
SCOTLAND THE BRAVE.
High in the misty highlands,
Up by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat
Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds that meet you,
Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines
From fair maidens' eyes.
Towering in gallant fame,
Scotland, my mountain hame;
Highly its proud standards gloriously wave.
Land of the high endeavour,
Land of the shining river,
SCOTLAND THE BRAVE.
Created: Sunday, 19 October 1997, 8:00pm
Last Updated: Sunday, 19 October 1997, 8:00pm
Page Contents © 1997 by: Gael MacGregor (UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED)
THIS PAGE was Sorta CREATED WITH:
HTML Writer by Kris Nosack *and* used information, tips & silliness in:
The Complete Idiot's Guide to Creating an HTML Web Page (Second Edition)
