Classic Poem

O wha will gang wi' me the day,
An' wha will bide at hame?
The waves are ripplin' blithe an' gay,
A' flecked wi' snawy faem;
The sea is sparklin' noo an' still,
But that's no the way for me.
I'm gangin' up the heather hill.
Whaur the winds blaw free!

The lawlan's lie fu' fair tae see,
A' glintin' in the sun,
The gowden corn sways bonnily,
The hairst is noo begun;
But we'll gang up the mountain side,
Wi' the bracken tae the knee,
An' there we'll run, an' there we'll ride,
Whaur the winds blaw free!

Wi' the kindly heather 'neath oor feet,
The blue lift owerheid.
We'll hae nae thocht o' city street,
O' land or wealth nae need;
For a' the warld oor ain is still,
The earth, the sky, the sea,
When we wander ower the heather hill,
Whaur the winds blaw free!

An' when at last gangs doon the sun,
Red in a gowden haze,
We'll tell auld tales o' deeds were dune,
In Scotia's ancient days;
Until the auld heroic dead,
Frae earth an' frae the sea,
Stand there upon the heather hill,
Whaur the winds blaw free!