No we don't have a lot of money Just as free Free as we'll ever be So we live out in our old van Travel all across this land We'll end up hand in hand Somewhere down on the sand

And that's how it's made in the U.S.A, the U.S.A Isn't it great, how we got it made? We got it made You know we got it made Yeah, land of the free Home of the hard, home of the tough We some gun toting, church going

Screaming the name Of a foreigner's God The purest expression of grief She moves with shameless wonder The perfect creature rarely seen Since some lie I brought the thunder When the land was godless and free Her eyes look sharp and steady Into the empty

So be easy and free when you're drinking with me I'm a man you don't meet every day Oh my name is Jock Stewart I'm a canny gun man And a roving young fellow I've been I have acres of land I have men at command I have always a shilling to spare Well I

I felt so free Where I wanted to be The days went so fast How I wish they could last So far from my homeland I´m lost in time For that peace of mind Those sacred landscapes Come miles around

Tropical the island breeze All of nature wild and free This is where I long to be La isla bonita And when the samba played The sun would set so high Ring through my ears and sting my eyes Your Spanish lullaby Last night I dreamt of San Pedro

Join the Scottish revolution Freedom must be won by blood Now we call for revolution Play the pipes and cry out loud Rally all the clans Now that our time has come to fight Scotland must unite We'll make a stand on Stirling ground To put a challenge to

Rise over shadow mountains blazing with power! Crossing valleys, endless tears, in unity we stand Far and wide across the land, the victory is ours On towards the gates of reason Fight for the truth and the freedom, Gloria Cry out for the fallen heroes

Tropical the island breeze All of nature wild and free This is where I long to be La isla bonita And when the samba played The sun would set so high Ring through my ears and sting my eyes Your Spanish lullaby Last night I dreamt of San Pedro

Land of the free, land of the free In the land of the free I'm standing crying (oh oh oh oh) Can't wipe the wind-blown smile from across my face It's just the old man in me Washing his truck at the Sinclair station In the land of the free (ooh) His