Robert The Bruce

Wokoma, Pat

Fit' ye sitting there Rob man
lookin' sae dour aboot the mooth
ye shid be workin' oot a plan
tae run thae Sassenachs doon Sooth

Fit dae ye mean, ye've given up
yer tired oot, an' feelin' bad,
jist look ye on yon puir wee spider
he's sure enough, a game bit lad

Ilka times, he's spun yon threed,
an' fallen doon when syne it bracks
but you maun watch it spin again
nae carin' neen how lang it tacks

The mair he tries, the mair he spins
an' verra soon, his battle wins
a web that's strong and firm, Ma Lord,
So up King Bruce, unsheath yer sword.


To Battle an' tae win this day
For Scotlands' freedom
come what may.