Ye’ll never gang north again. Bide a blink tae knit knots in the tufted tails o precious stots – protect them fae aul-warld witches castin cantrips tae spuil yer riches. Ye’ll never gang north again. Bird o my bosom, dinnae be sae prood – afore ye traivel muckle miles sooth withoot furrochin aneath a roof, wid ye let me waak the deasil roon you? Ye’ll never gang north again. Wi a tup’s horn o lammer whisky, ingans and oatmeal, whistle pibrochs ower the Scots dyke, whar Heilan, Lallan and Border-men are aa man’s bairns. Ye’ll never gang north again. England’s sweet meadows feed mony beasts, sae dinnae be fechtin ower whar they feast. Keep yer sgian-dubh healt and concealt and darena you let yer deil be dealt. Ye’ll never gang north again. Ye’ll see us Gaels’, we bleed a richer reid syne a wumman’s warnins ye widnae heed – ye will gie a life for the ane ye’v tane. Ye will never gang north again.