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THE THISTLE.

Let them boast of the country gave Patrick his fame, Of the land of the ocean, and Anglian name, With their red blushing roses and shamrock sae green ;

Far dearer to me are the hills of the North, The land of blue mountains, the birth-place of worth, Those mountains where Freedom has fix'd her abode, Those wide-spreading glens, where no slave ever trod, Where blooms the red heather and thistle sae green.

Though rich be the soil where blossoms the rose, And bleak the high mountains, and cover'd with snows, Where blooms the red heather and thistle sae green; Yet for friendship sincere, and for loyalty true, And for courage so bold, which no foo could subdue, Unmatch'd is our country, unrivall'd our swains, And lovely and true are the nymphs on our plains, Where rises the thistle--the thistle sae green.

Far-fam'd are our sires in the battles of yore, And many the cairnies that rise on our shore, O'er the foes that invaded the thistle sae green; And many a cairnie shall rise on our strand, Should the torrent of war ever burst on our land; Let foe come on foe, like wave upon wave, We'll give them a welcome, -we'll give them a grave, Beneath the red heather and thistle sae green!

O dear to your souls are the blessings of heaven, The freedom we boast of, the land which we live in, The land of the thistle the thistle sae green ;