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Oh have you ever seen old green Scottish heights?
The hills and Marilyns echo William's rights,
Loch's water is still and calm as monks of yore,
When it seeps through hillsides in its tranquil rites.
And that my dear is you and your aspects fair.

The newborn grass of Argyll is vestal floor,
Unspoiled, pristine when it cherish Scottish shore,
And then there are castles, rooks and roman wall,
That on vestal floor are built and background bore.
And that my dear is you and your flaxen hair.

You are unique for you coalesce it all,
Your looks are prudent, your eyes are off the doll,
Your manners of daytime vanish for our nights,
Though a zephyr fresh you do not gently sprawl,
And that my dear is Scotland and it's fresh air.

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