The Last Trip Home / The Luckenbooth

A've aye worked on farms an frae the start
 The muckle horses won my heart
 Wi big broad backs they proudly stand
 The uncrowned kings o' a' the land
 And yet for a' their power and strength
 They're as gentle as a summer's wind
 So steady, boys, walk on
 Oor work is nearly done
 Nor more we'll till or plough the fields
 The horses' day is gone
 An' this will be our last trip home
 So steady, boys, walk on
 Now you'll hear men sing their songs of praise
 Of Arab stallions in a race
 Or hunters that fly wi' the hounds
 Tae chase the fox and run him down
 But none o' them compare, I vow
 Tae a workin' pair that pulls a plough
 And a' the years I've plied my trade
 And a' the fields we've ploughed and laid
 I never thought I'd see the time
 When a Clydesdale's work wid ever end
 But progress runs its driven course
 And tractors hae replaced the horse
 As we head back, oor friends have lined
 The road tae be there one last time
 For nane of them would want tae miss
 The chance tae see us pass like this
 They'll say they saw in years tae come
 The muckle horses' last trip home