As the full moon in autumn our shields do appear,
Minerva would dread to encounter our spear.
Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old France,
In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance;
But when our claymores they saw us produce,
Their courage did fail, and they sued for a truce.
In our realm may the fury of faction long cease,
May our councils be wise and our commerce increase,
And in Scotia’s cold climate may each of us find,
That our friends still prove true and our beauties prove kind.