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78 THE SEVENTY-NINTH.
Then heeze out the pipes wi' a cheer, An' up wi' some heart-thrillin' strain, To mind us the field is where Scots never yield, While ae chance to win may remain. Syne shout, lads, the auld battle-cry — " Saint Andrew ! " — an' let them beware When doure Southron knaves wad mak North-folk their slaves — The Seventy-ninth will be there !
The Union, the Nation, an' Name,
The " Stars and the Stripes " an' the Laws! Oh! never can hand wave the death-dealing brand In what could be holier cause ! Then muster, my bonny brave Scots, An' swear by the tartan we wear, Where e'er be the van, one in heart to a man — The Seventy-ninth will be there !