Crashing chilled tumults define your form
Mists crown your high places.
Lochans adorn your sylvan neck
Strung together by the bracing gale
That breaks on your coat of birch, hazel and pine.
Your children unite with the soaring birds
And creatures among the shading oaks
Or vigilant stag on the high ridge.
We joyously share in your bounty,
Our spirits sing on beholding you.
You have shaped us in your image
You have made of us adventurers
Forged upon your high seas and mountains
To survive where others flounder
And to honour you from afar
Our wanderings bring us back to you
Like the greylag and salmon
In the name of progress some would exploit you
But you lay low their mightiest works with gentle flowers
We who cherish you are your children
You are wild and beautiful
And none can possess you
But our hearts are yours
Your spirit gives us life
Land of the soul, Mother Alba