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IN THE GARB OF OLD GAUL.
Tune—The Highland March.
In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome,
From the heath-cover'd mountains of Scotia we come
Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain,
But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain.
From the heath-cover'd mountains of Scotia we come
Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain,
But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain.
Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws,
That, like our ancestors of old, we'll stand by freedom's cause
We'll bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and applause,
And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws.
That, like our ancestors of old, we'll stand by freedom's cause
We'll bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and applause,
And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws.
No effeminate customs our sinews unbrace;
No luxurious tables enervate our race;
Our loud sounding pipes breathe the true martial strain,
So do we the old Scottish valour retain.
Such our love, &c.
No luxurious tables enervate our race;
Our loud sounding pipes breathe the true martial strain,
So do we the old Scottish valour retain.
Such our love, &c.
We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale,
As swift as the roe which the hound doth assail,
As swift as the roe which the hound doth assail,
