| Wha the de’il hae we gotten for a king
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| But a wee, wee German lairdie
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| When we gaed to bring him hame
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| He was delvin' in his yairdie
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| He was sheughing kail an' pu’in' leeks
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| Aye but the hose an' but the breeks
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| Wi' his beggar duds he cleeks
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| Ye wee bit German lairdie
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| He’s clappit doun in our gudeman’s chair
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| This wee bit German lairdie
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| An' he’s brocht forth o' foreign trash
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| An' dibbled them in his yairdie
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| He’s pu’d the rose o' English loons
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| Broke the harp o' Irish clowns
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| Our thistle taps will jag his thumbs
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| Ye wee bit German lairdie
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| Come up amangst our Hieland Hills
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| Ye wee bit German lairdie
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| An' see the Stuart’s lang kail thrive
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| They hae dibbled in our yairdie
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| An' if a stock ye daur to pu'
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| Or haud the yokin' o' a plough
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| We’ll break your sceptre owre your mou'
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| Ye wee bit German lairdie
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| Our hills are steep, our glens are deep
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| Nae fitting for a yairdie
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| Our Norland thistles winna pu'
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| Ye wee bit German lairdie
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| We’ve the trenching blades o' weir
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| Wad prune ye o' your German gear
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| We’ll pass ye 'neath the claymore’s shear
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| Ye feckless German lairdie
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| Scotland, thou’rt ower cauld a hole
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| For nursin' siccan vermin
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| But the very hounds o' the English court
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| They bark, they howl in German
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| So keep thy dibble in thy ain hand
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| Thy spade but an' thy yairdie
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| For wha the de’il now claims your land
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| But a wee, wee German lairdie |