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1.O flower of ScotlandWhen will we seeYour like againThat fought and died forYour wee bit hill and glenAnd stood against himProud Edward's armyAnd sent him homewardTae think again
2.The hills are bare nowAnd autumn leaves lie thick and stillO'er land that is lost nowWhich those so dearly heldAnd stood against himProud Edward's armyAnd sent him homewardTae think again
3.Those days are passed nowAnd in the past they must remainBut we can still rise nowAnd be the nation againAnd stood against himProud Edward's armyAnd sent him homewardTae think again
The Flower of ScotlandNational Anthem
Scotland (Gaelic:Alba) is a country that is Part of the United Kingdom. It
shares a border with England. In addition to the mainland, Scotland consists of over 790 islands. It has a population of just over 5million.Edinburgh, the country's capital
and second largest city. Glasgow, Scotland's largest city.
Ben Nevis, Britain’s highest mountain
Scotland’s Cup of Friendship For centuries the Quaich was a common domestic utensil, which originated in the West Highlands of Scotland. It was the everyday dish, from which the Scot and drank his ale or whiskey.
Burns Suppers are held on January, 25th (birthday) every year. Many of his poems and songs are
recited and most importantly, the haggis is piped in and ‘Address to a Haggis’ is performed before a knife is plunged into the haggis, which is then
served with neeps and tatties.
1.Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the puddin-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy of a grace As lang's my arm.
2.The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hudies like a distant hill, Your pin wad help to mend a mill In time o' need, While thro' your pores the dews distil Like amber bead.
8.Ye pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care, And dish them out their bill o' fare, Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware, That jaups in luggies; But if ye wish her gratfu' prayer, Gie her a Haggis!
3.His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut ye up wi' ready slight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like onie ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reeking, rich!
Address To A Haggis
