So the blood of the race must be offered like rain,
Ere the stars of our country are ransomed again.
The Patriot’s Address.
Air—Scots Wha Hae.
Patriot hearts and loyal souls!
Ye whose faith no fear controls—
Lo! the storm of treason rolls
Round your glorious liberty!
Rebel swords have struck your shield—
Traitor hands their poniards wield—