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THE HIGHLAND GARB.
But will we let the ancient garb
Our fathers lov'd, be gone Ì
Or will we brook to see it borne
By stranger forms alone ?
no ! we will remember it,
We'll cherish it most dear ;
And if we must its use forego,
"We'll prize it, to revere !
Fill high the cup, &c.
yield again, ye Highland hills,
Our fathers' ancient strains :
And their beloved, long-lost, attire,
Restore, ye Highland plains !
Thy spirit has not slumber'd yet,
Land of the minstrel's story, —
Land of the generous and brave, — <
Of gallantry and glory !
Fill high the cup, &c.

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