From Glasow to Riodosa,
we all have traveled this land,
wearing a kilt of the finest wool,
to show the honor of our clan,
made by honest Scottish hands.
As travelers our courses,
have often changed,
arriving by schooners,
disembarking on rocky shores,
of this majestic land,
our shoe leather had already worn thin,
determined to make it,
this was the challenge at hand.
Westward, on wagons we traveled,
our mere possessions,
hung aside the wagons,
as we trod in ruts,
that the wheels did churn,
to make for a new life,
on unseen plains,
in this distant land.
We travelers determined to find,
far from Scotlands highlands,
plains we never knew,
and with our oats to spread,
on rich soil,
with our earth worn hands.
Upon steeds hand tamed,
taught to respond,
with a Glasow glance,
upon our saddle we sat,
and with handmade quirt in hand,
racing through golden fields,
of oats and barley waves.
High above a falcon soars,
and with most keen eyes,
sees what it adores,
while we among the golden waves,
chase a young stray calf,
in this land forever free,
oh liberty, we do cherish thee.
