They wrapped the unicorn in chain, And crowned it wiā a foreign reign, Called it union, called it kin, While takinā all, and keepinā in. They whispered soft: āYe cannae stand, Too wee, too poor, ye need our hand.ā Yet oil and whisky, wind and sea, Aā flow south, nae kept for thee. They telt us freedom breeds in strife, That breakinā free would wreck our life, Better bide, be still, obey, And trust the crown tae guide the way. They gave us votes, but set the frame, A borrowed voice, a rigged-up game, Devolution dressed as might, While London holds the final right. This isnae love, nor equal share, Itās gilded chains weāre bade tae wear. But captors need the captive too, And Scotlandās strength is breakinā through. For once we ken the truth sae clear, The only chain is built on fear. And fear will fade, as dawn will rise, When Scotland claims whatās hers, her prize.