Flouer o Scotland

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(The) Flouer o Scotland (Inglis (The) Flower of Scotland; 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[eedit | eedit soorce]

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[eedit | eedit soorce]

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 thae 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 naition again,
That stuid agin him,
Prood Edwart's Airmie,
An sent him hamewart,
Tae think again.

Inglis (wi Scots influence)[eedit | eedit soorce]

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[eedit | eedit soorce]

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.