“ And sing the streams, the straths, the howes,
⁠The hills and dales o’ Gallowa.
And when auld Scotland's heathy hills,
⁠Her rural nymphs and jovial swains,
Her flowery wilds and wimpling rills,
⁠Awake nae mair my cantie streams;
Where friendship dwells and freedom reigns,
⁠Where heather blooms and moor-cocks craw,
O dig my grave, and lay my bones,
⁠Amang the hills o’ Gallowa. ”

“ After long toils and troubles past,
⁠How sweet to tread our native soil,
With conquest to return at last,
⁠And deck our sweet hearts with the spoil,
No one to beauty should pretend,
But such as dare it's rights defend. ”

“ Say, canst thou quit the busy scene,
⁠where thou wert fairest of the fair.
⁠⁠Where thou art fairest, where thou art fairest
⁠⁠⁠where thou wert fairest of the fair.
Oh Nanny when thou'rt far awa,
⁠do thou not cast a wish behind?
Say, canst thou face the flaky snaw,
⁠nor shrink before the warping wind,
O can that saft and gentlest mien,
⁠severest hardships learn to bear,
Nor, sad regret each courtly scene,
⁠were thou wert fairest of the fair. ”