No Scotland no party

The tartan army's on it's way

We're marching to the USA 

A football tournament to play

The world cup is here

A sea of colour kilts and song

The flower of Scotland singalong 

A choir of voices thousands strong 

Fuelled by the local beer 

The bagpipes match the drummers beat 

Fans chant and dance on every street 

The team take on the world's elite

Without an ounce of fear

We're here to party nothing more

We'd love to win but fuck the score

Our flags and banners to the fore

From front row to the rear

Although we have a decent past

It's twenty eight long years since last 

The highland clans and lowlands massed 

And kicked into top gear