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Cnoc An Tursa
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The Lion of Scotland
Red Lion famed and feared of old
On Scotland's battle field,
The blazon of her banner fold—
The 'scutcheon of her shield.
Meet emblem of her heroes, whom
Thou ledd'st to battle forth,
And ledd'st to triumph, or a tomb,
Red Lion of the North
The warlike Pict, the wandering Dane,
Oft thou hast made to mourn,
And sterner glories dyed thy name,—
The blood of Bannockburn!
On later fields, in many a clime,
Hast thou pawed proudly forth,
Triumphant as of olden time,
Red Lion of the North
The chieftain's cairn, the martyr's grave,
Where sleep the heroic dead,
May ne'er the footstep of a slave,
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Profane them with their tread—
Nor vainly may the Future see
Our armed hosts go forth,
Beneath St. Andrew's cross, and thee,
Red Lion of the North
The ancient mind, the ancient might,
Still may our hills produce,
To wield the sword of Wallace wight,
The battle-axe of Bruce!
High honour unto thine and thee,
For never shalt thou wave,
But from the flag-staff of the free,
The banner of the brave!
And by thy glories in the past,
When Scotland bears thee forth,
Stand thou for freedom, first and last.
Red Lion of the North
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