Вступление
[Verse 1]
It was down by the farm of Scottas,
Lord Brocket walked one day,
when he saw a sight that troubled him
Far more than he could say,
For the Seven Men of Knoydart
Were doing what they'd planned.
They had staked their claims they were digging drains,
On Brocket's Private Land.
[Verse 2]
"You bloody Reds," Lord Brocket yelled,
"Wot's this you're doing 'ere?
It doesn't pay as you'll find today,
To insult an English peer.
You're only Scottish half-wits,
But I'll have you understand.
You Highland swine, these Hills are mine!
This is all Lord Brocket's Land."
[Verse 3]
Then up spoke the Men of Knoydart,
"Away and shut your trap,
For threats from a Saxon brewer's boy,
We just don't give a rap.
Now we are all ex-servicement,
Who fought against the Hun.
We can tell our enemies by now,
And Brocket, you are one!"
[Verse 4]
When the noble lord he heard these words he
Turned purple in the face.
He said, "These Scottish savages
Are Britain's black disgrace.
I know it's true I've let some few
Thousand acres go to pot,
But each one I'd give to a London spiv,
Before any Bloody Scot!"
[Verse 5]
"You're a crowd of Tartan Bolshies!
But I'll soon have you licked.
I'll write to the Court of Session,
For an Interim Interdict.
I'll write to my London lawyer,
And he will understand."
"Och to Hell with your London lawyer,
We want our Scottish Land."
[Verse 6]
Then up spoke the men of Knoydart,
"You have no earthly right.
For this is the land of Scotland,
And no the Isle of Wight.
When Scotland's proud Fianna,
With ten thousand lads is manned,
We'll show the world that Highlanders
Have a right to Scottish Land."