Beautiful, Glorious Scotland, Has Spoilt

Clouds And Darkness Surround Us, Yet Heaven Is Just, And The Day Of Triumph Will Surely Come, When Justice And Truth Will Be Vindicated. Our Wrongs Will Be Made Right, And We Will Once More Taste The Blessings Of Freedom

No One Has Ever Lived Who Knows Better Than You The Proper Placement Of Footfalls On Treacherous Paths.

Beautiful, Glorious Scotland, Has Spoilt Me For Every Other Country.

If You Keep Making Jokes Like That, Somebody Is Going To Shoot You, Father.

In Grief, Words Are A Poor Consolation - Silence And Agonizing Tears Are All That Is Left The Sufferer.