Who knows not fear may never make a man,
that’s where our resolution was begun;
so scattered scares just made each sleek someone
to cower less and find, as in a clan,
that dignity which scorns all mean, hired means,
no matter how empowered, shrill or sly,
to film with craven cataract our eye,
or filch the courage from our freedom’s genes.
September’s dawn will come and we will say,
“They brought us bogles and the shards of shame,
the lies of alien greed and now with hollow
minds of empires lost, they have to yield our day.”
Oh with our freedom, let’s not be the same –
for all Scots, brave or feart, face one morrow.