When Chill November's Surly Blast Made Fields

Be Briton Still To Britain True, Among Oursel's United; For Never But By British Hands Maun British Wrangs Be Righted.

I'll Be Merry And Free, I'll Be Sad For Nae-body; If Nae-body Cares For Me, I'll Care For Nae-body.

Great For Good, Or Great For Evil.

Again Rejoicing Nature Sees Her Robe Assume Its Vernal Hues Her Leafy Locks Wave In The Breeze, All Freshly Steep'd In The Morning Dews.

When Matters Are Desperate We Must Put On A Desperate Face.