| |
| SING, a’ ye bards, wi’ loud acclaim, | |
| High glory gi’e to gallant Graham, | |
| Heap laurels on our marshal’s fame | |
| Wha conquered at Vittoria. | |
| Triumphant freedom smiled on Spain, | 5 |
| An’ raised her stately form again, | |
| Whan the British lion shook his mane | |
| On the mountains of Vittoria. | |
| |
| Let blustering Suchet crousely crack, | |
| Let Joseph rin the coward’s track, | 10 |
| An’ Jourdan wish his baton back | |
| He left upon Vittoria. | |
| If e’er they meet their worthy king, | |
| Let them dance roun’ him in a ring, | |
| An’ some Scots piper play the spring | 15 |
| He blew them at Vittoria. | |
| |
| Gi’e truth and honor to the Dane, | |
| Gi’e German’s monarch heart and brain, | |
| But aye in sic a cause as Spain | |
| Gi’e Britain a Vittoria. | 20 |
| The English rose was ne’er sae red, | |
| The shamrock waved whare glory led, | |
| An’ the Scottish thistle reared its head | |
| In joy upon Vittoria. | |
| |
| Loud was the battle’s stormy swell, | 25 |
| Whare thousands fought an’ many fell, | |
| But the Glasgow heroes bore the bell | |
| At the battle of Vittoria. | |
| The Paris maids may ban them a’, | |
| Their lads are maistly wede awa’, | 30 |
| An’ cauld an’ pale as wreathes o’ snaw | |
| They lie upon Vittoria. | |
| |
| Peace to the souls, then, o’ the brave, | |
| Let all their trophies for them wave, | |
| And green be our Cadogan’s grave | 35 |
| Upon thy fields, Vittoria. | |
| Shout on, my boys, your glasses drain, | |
| And fill a bumper up again, | |
| Pledge to the leading star o’ Spain, | |
| The hero of Vittoria. | 40 |
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