Classic Poem

The bonnie Scot! he hath nae got
A hame o' sun an light;
His clime hath aft a dreary day
An' mony a stormy night,
He hears the blast gae crooning past,
He sees the snowflake fa':
But what o' that? He'll tell ye still,
His land is best o' a':
He wadna' tine, for rose or vine,
The gowans round his cot;
There is nae bloom like heath an' broom,
To charm the bonnie Scot.

The roarin' din o' flood an' linn
Is music unco sweet;
He loves the pine aboon his head,
The breckans 'neath his feet:
The lavrock's trill, sae clear an' shrill,
Is matchless to his ear;
What joy for him like bounding free
To hunt the fleet dun deer?
Nae wonder he sae proudly scorns
A safter, kinder lot;
He kens his earth gave Wallace birth
That brave and bonnie Scot.