Oh wee white rose of Scotland, tell tae me
When wad ye rise and bloom wi fient a thorn
When wad ye rise up haill and straucht and free
Nae mair tae dwine forfochten and forlorn

Oh wad ye rise and scent the air again
Wi blossom blithe on branches noo abrede
Tae gar this land pit life in ye I'd spend
My warldis gear tae bring ye some remeid

Oh no, this land's a kindly nurse tae me
It is the sky wi mirk is sair owercast
Thir days o' dule they will only ended be
When fae a new airt blaws a fresher blast

When charity shall stand in Scotland's tongue
For leal and soothfu band wi aa that lives
When riches are nae mair the work o' wrang
But shall requite the ane that freest gives

When Scotland's great are they wha kindest can
Lift ithers' loads tae gie their spirits room
Then wi a glad upspringan til the sun
The winds o' aa the world I shall perfume

Oh wee white rose of Scotland, tell tae me
When wad ye rise and bloom wi fient a thorn
When wad ye rise up haill and straucht and free
Nae mair tae dwine forfochten and forlorn
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