Flouer o Scotland

(The) Flouer o Scotland (Inglis: (The) Flower of Scotland; Scots Gaelic: (An) Flùir na h-Alba) is the unoffeecial naitional sang o Scotland. It wis written bi Roy Williamson o the fowk baund The Corries in the 1960s.

Scotland disna hae an offeecial naitional sang o its ain (offeecially the sang o the Unitit Kinrick, God Save the Queen, is uisit); houaniver, the sang is aftentimes uised at sportin events an the like. It competes wi Scotland the Brave for this poseetion.

Versions

Roy Williamson componed the sang in Inglis (wi a wheen Scots wirds) an Iain Aonghas MacLeòid pit the sang ower intil Gaelic. They twa sets o lyrics is reproduced ablo, alang wi a Scots version.

Scots

The Flouer o Scotland

O Flouer o Scotland,

Whan will we see

Yer like again,

That focht an dee'd for,

Yer wee bit Hill an Glen,

An stuid agin him,

Prood Edwart's Airmie,

An sent him hamewart,

Tae think again.

The Hills is bare nou,

An Autumn leafs

Lies thick an still,

Ower land that is tint nou,

That thay sae dearlie held,

That stuid agin him,

Prood Edwart's Airmie,

An sent him hamewart,

Tae think again.

Thir days is past nou,

An in the past

Thay maun bide,

But we can aye rise nou,

An be the nation again,

That stuid agin him,

Prood Edwart's Airmie,

An sent him hamewart,

Tae think again.

Inglis (wi Scots influence)

The Flower of Scotland

O Flower of Scotland,

When will we see

Your like again,

That fought and died for,

Your wee bit Hill and Glen,

And stood against him,

Proud Edward's Army,

And sent him homeward,

Tae think again.

The Hills are bare now,

And Autumn leaves

Lie thick and still,

O'er land that is lost now,

Which those so dearly held,

That stood against him,

Proud Edward's Army,

And sent him homeward,

Tae think again.

Those days are past now,

And in the past

They must remain,

But we can still rise now,

And be the nation again,

That stood against him,

Proud Edward's Army,

And sent him homeward,

Tae think again.

Gaelic

Flùr na h-Alba

O Fhlùir na h-Alba,

cuin a chì sinn

an seòrsa laoich

a sheas gu bàs 'son

am bileag feòir is fraoich,

a sheas an aghaidh

feachd uailleil Ìomhair

's a ruaig e dhachaidh

air chaochladh smaoin?

Na cnuic tha lomnochd

's tha duilleach Foghair

mar bhrat air làr,

am fearann caillte

dan tug na seòid ud gràdh,

a sheas an aghaidh

feachd uailleil Ìomhair

's a ruaig e dhachaigh

air chaochladh smaoin.

Tha 'n eachdraidh dùinte

ach air dìochuimhne

chan fheum i bhith,

is faodaidh sinn èirigh

gu bhith nar Rìoghachd a-rìs

a sheas an aghaidh

feachd uailleil Ìomhair

's a ruaig e dhachaidh

air chaochladh smaoin.