Haste ye to Lucknow’s fainting brave;
Too long they’ve battled with the slave—
The weak and helpless Fair to save
From rapine, ruin, and the grave—
Hope comes wi’ bonnie Scotland.
And now brave Havelock’s work is done;
He sets like to the evening sun;
By him the crown of glory’s won—
His God, beholding, saith “Well done!”
The Lost—the Loved o’ Scotland.