Nooh - Santana. Not kumbayah... Anything but that 
My post was partly prompted by meeting some lovely, charming, delightful Scots Nat visitors out here in the wilds over the weekend. They were totally pro Scotland's independence but had no idea what life was like outside the Central Belt. I just felt a little bit despairing...
It also reminded me of the preface to Liz Lochhead's play: ' Mary Queen of Scots got her head chopped off' . (Mumsnet admin geeks, I genuinely hope this little extract is not infringing copyright:)
The corbie (national bird) is speaking:
Scotland. Whit like is it?
It’s a peatbog, it’s a daurk forest.
It’s a cauldron o’ lye, a saltpan or a coal mine.
If you’re gey lucky it’s a bricht bere meadow or a park o’ kye.
Or mibbe... it’s a field o’ stanes.
It’s a tenement or a merchant’s ha’.
It’s a hure hoose or a humble cot. Princes Street or Paddy’s Merkit.
It’s a fistfu’ o’ fish or a pickle o’ oatmeal.
It’s a queen’s banquet o’ roast meats and junketts.
It depends. It depends ...
My extract was qoted from here lallandspeatworrier.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/la-corbie-scottish-makar.html