And never move frae aff the bit,
Wha hear a Burns or Shakespeare sing,
Yet still their ain bit jingles string,
As they were worth the fashioning.
Whatever Scotland is to me,
Be it aye pairt o’ a’ men see
O’ Earth and o’ Eternity
Wha winna hide their heids in’t till
It seems the haill o’ Space to fill,
As t’were an unsurmounted hill.