All ye who come from Highland croft
No doubt remember well,
That Christ once looked from up aloft
For Dives' soul in Hell.
And when that burnt and flaming torch
Looked up and screamed at You
"I didna ken 'twould be like this",
You said:          'Ye ken the noo!'.

So Blair and Cook when you take path
And Serbian lands survey
Don't hesitate to face the wrath
Of all along the way.
Christians and Muslims — both the same —
If learned or unread —
They've paid the price for your fine game
And now they're very dead.

And when you reach St. Peter's gate
No doubt you'll beg to plead —
We had to bomb, we had no hate,
For Duty was our creed.
Yet when the Day of Judgement comes
And History writes the scroll,
You'll find you're just a pair of bums,
Without a begging bowl.

You'll see the heads and arms and guts
Your bombs have torn apart,
And all the brains and young men's nuts
You valued at a fart.
'But our intentions were so good'
You'll cry in mock dismay,
'We did not cause this flood of blood,
Milosevic should pay'.

Of course he should, and so he will,
But now let's stick to you,
There is so very large a bill
We'd better start anew.
You thought it would be clean and quick
Bring fame and honour too —
You always were a shade too slick;
Those days are up for you.

You'll go to live in Passchendaele
Amid the blood and slime
And then at last you will not fail
To recognize your crime.
And if you did not know before
What warfare means to you,
You'll have the rest of evermore
To grasp:          'Ye ken the noo'.