Ode to Scotland's Tartan Army In the land of bonnie hills and glens, Where the bagpipes play their ancient tunes, A fierce brigade of mighty men, Gather 'round the saltire, as they croon. The Tartan Army, a force unyielding, With hearts of lion, never tamed. They march with pride, their spirits building, In pursuit of glory, never shamed. They gather, a sea of wild tartan, Proud kilts swaying, in unison, Their voices rise, a passionate garden, As they sing their songs, like the bards of yon. For the World Cup calls, a grand event, And every four years they make their stand. From Hampden Park to distant descent, They travel far to cheer their Scottish band. Through sun and rain, through joy and tears, They follow their team, unwaveringly. With painted faces, brave kilted fears, They're the lifeblood of Scottish football, stoically. From Glasgow's streets to far-off lands, They proudly wear their clan's tartan hue. With passion burning in their hands, They fill the stadiums, a boisterous crew. Their songs resound in every corner, Echoing through the hallowed ground. Their cheers unite, a common honor, As they rally behind the Brave and Proud. Their presence felt in every game, Their unwavering support strong and bright. They lift their team, ignite the flame, Guiding Scotland to victory's sight. For in this ode, we raise our voices, To hail the Tartan Army, bold and true. With them, Scotland forever rejoices, Their passion an inspiration, through and through. So march on, Tartan Army, march on, With every step, leave your mark in time. Together we stand, united as one, In support of Scotland's football prime. In this World Cup, you carry our dreams, With every chant, every raucous cheer. In your laughter, our hope gleams, For the Tartan Army, the spirit of Scotland, we hold dear.
