Classic Poem

Ho ri il, ho ro a, ho u il, ho re,
is he hillin ho ro a, ho hi urabh, ho re.

Indeed we were merry
in these parts yesterday,
watching the races
on Aberdeen beach.
Ho ri il, ho ro a, ho u il, ho re, &c.

The pipers were ready,
and the drum was in trim;
the melodious fifes
were warbling prettily;

while we drank of strong drink
as much as we could enjoy,
lest we should be taunted
for coming home sober.

A toast to the Colonel-in-chief
who is over us all,
we will willingly pay for,
and readily pledge.

In his own territories
he found the young sprigs,
who, in time of unsheathing,
are stern behind the keen blades,

and have their black-blue guns
with fresh flints in their locks:
at the time of igniting the powder,
not one would hang fire.

Their badge was distinctive,
and the heroes matched it:
silk banner on a tall staff,
and a strong, unyielding boar.

When the flag was unfurled,
and true warriors followed it,
they were good in the van of an army
to effect the retreat of the foe.

Those vigorous men will go
with dash to play their part;
they are noble in their bearing,
and springy was their step.

Comely to behold
on a clear, level field,
were the young men with their tartans,
pleated into a kilt.

Pity the foe that encountered
the valiant, gay lads;
the fortitude of the Gaels
will ensure their victory.