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Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad
I be
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!
When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree,
The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countree;
Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!
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The green leaf o' loyaltie 's
beginning for to fa',
The bonnie White Rose it is withering an' a';
But I'll water 't wi' the blude of usurping tyrannie,
An' green it will graw in my ain countree.
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O, there 's nocht now frae ruin
my country can save,
But the keys o' kind heaven, to open the grave;
That a' the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie
May rise again an' fight for their ain countree.
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The great now are gane, a' wha
ventured to save,
The new grass is springing on the tap o' their grave;
But the sun through the mirk blinks blythe in my e'e,
I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countree.
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Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad
I be
O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!
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