Oh wee white rose of Scotland, tell tae me When wad ye rise and bloom wi fient a thorn When wad ye rise up haill and straucht and free Nae mair tae dwine forfochten and forlorn Oh wad ye rise and scent the air again Wi blossom blithe on branches noo abrede Tae gar this land pit life in ye I'd spend My warldis gear tae bring ye some remeid Oh no, this land's a kindly nurse tae me It is the sky wi mirk is sair owercast Thir days o' dule they will only ended be When fae a new airt blaws a fresher blast When charity shall stand in Scotland's tongue For leal and soothfu band wi aa that lives When riches are nae mair the work o' wrang But shall requite the ane that freest gives When Scotland's great are they wha kindest can Lift ithers' loads tae gie their spirits room Then wi a glad upspringan til the sun The winds o' aa the world I shall perfume Oh wee white rose of Scotland, tell tae me When wad ye rise and bloom wi fient a thorn When wad ye rise up haill and straucht and free Nae mair tae dwine forfochten and forlorn 1