I'm sitting in my room
Feeling homesick feeling gloom
Trying to find the football on TV
And the thing I miss the most
Is white sliced bread or the Sunday Post
Or a Bonny Takeaway o' Tandoori
Well I've never yearned for glens
Or my Granny's buts and bens
And I've never longed to be in Pitlochry
Now all I've a growing sense of loss
For chips and curry sauce
Or a bonny takeway o' Tandoori
Oh Scotland What I need from you
Here in this hot land is a can
Just a can, a can of Irn Bru
Oh gran I would have phoned ya
If I knew the code for Caledonia
Told you of my homesick fantasy
We would go for a hurl in the car
Have a supper of Mars bars
Or a bonnie takaway o' Tandoori
Now I'm looking at the pool
And I see it's nearly full
With all the boys from Govan and Paisley
And all I wish I had was a Cumbernauld kebab
Or a bonnie takaway o' Tandoori
And a cup of tea
Made with Tetley
Or even Nambarrie
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