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Poem	DOES haughty Gaul invasion threat? Then let the louns beware, Sir; There’s wooden walls upon our seas, And volunteers on shore, Sir: The Nith shall run to Corsincon, And Criffel sink in Solway, Ere we permit a Foreign Foe On British ground to rally! We’ll ne’er permit a Foreign Foe On British ground to rally! O let us not, like snarling curs, In wrangling be divided, Till, slap! come in an unco loun, And wi’ a rung decide it! Be Britain still to Britain true, Amang ourselves united; For never but by British hands Maun British wrangs be righted! No! never but by British hands Shall British wrangs be righted! The Kettle o’ the Kirk and State, Perhaps a clout may fail in’t; But deil a foreign tinkler loun Shall ever ca’a nail in’t. Our father’s blude the Kettle bought, And wha wad dare to spoil it; By Heav’ns! the sacrilegious dog Shall fuel be to boil it! By Heav’ns! the sacrilegious dog Shall fuel be to boil it! The wretch that would a tyrant own, And the wretch, his true-born brother, Who would set the Mob aboon the Throne, May they be damn’d together! Who will not sing “God save the King,” Shall hang as high’s the steeple; But while we sing “God save the King,” We’ll ne’er forget THE PEOPLE! But while we sing “God save the King,” We’ll ne’er forget THE PEOPLE!
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