Hark, when the night is falling, Hear! Hear the pipes are calling, loudly and proudly calling, down through the glen. There, where the hills are sleeping, now feel the blood a-leaping, high as the spirits of the old Highland men.
Towering in gallant fame, Scotland my mountain hame. High may your proud standards gloriously wave forever. Land of my high endeavor, land of the shining river, land of my heart forever, Scotland the brave.