Song Of The Celts
There's a blossom that blows, that scoffs at the snows
And it faces root fast the rage of the blast
It sweetens the sod, no slave ever trod
Six mountains of prayer there altered to God

CHORUS: The flower of the free, the heather, the heather
The Britons and Scots and Irish together
The Manx and the Welsh and Cornish forever
Six nations are we, proud Celtic and free

A blossom as red as the life's blood we shed
And for liberty's cause against alien laws
With Lochiel and O'Neill and Llewellyn drew steel
For Alba's and Eirn's and Cambria's weal

Let the Saxon and Dane bear the rule o'er the plain
And the hem of God's robe is their scepter and globe
And the lord of all light, revered in his height
For heaven and earth blows up in his sight