O’ Licht as’t in the black tide droons,
Yet even in the brain o’ Chaos
For Scotland I wad hain a place,
And let Tighnabruaich still
Be pairt and paircel o’ its will,
And Culloden, black as Hell,
A knowledge it has o’ itsel’.
Thou, Dostoevski, understood,
Wha had your ain land in your bluid,
And into it as in a mould