[Intro]
(Sound of an airport intercom bleeping)
Customs Officer (American accent): "Sir, please open the bag... is that... square sausage?"
(A massive acoustic guitar strum smashes down)
(The Tartan Army roars: "WE'RE IN THE CONCOURSE, BOYS!")
(Bagpipes kick in at 140 BPM with a thumping, heavy bass drum)
[Verse 1: The Warning Shot]
Hey there America, we’re crossing the sea,
We’ve packed up our kilts and we're ready for free.
But we’re sending a warning ahead of the flight,
You better start stocking the fridges tonight!
Clear out the water, put the juice on the shelves,
We’re bringing a party you’ve not seen yourselves!
[Pre-Chorus: The Grocery List]
Get the kettle on boiling, we need proper tea,
None of that iced stuff you throw in the sea!
We’ve got the Irn-Bru, the tattie scones packed,
And a suitcase of square sliced to keep us on track!
So tell your border control not to make any fuss,
Just stamp the passports and leave it to us!
[Chorus: The Stadium Explosion]
(The beat drops into an absolute rave—bagpipes screaming over a heavy techno synth)
Oh, stock up the booze, we are drinking you dry!
The Tartan Army is touching the sky!
Don’t mess with our tattie scones at the gate,
We’re here for the football, the party is great!
Win, lose, or draw, we will sing it so loud,
Making the whole of Scotland so proud!
(Huge whistle, guitar, and bagpipe breakdown)
[Verse 2: Border Control Bants]
(Fast, punchy hip-hop/punk crossover flow)
Walking through customs with a grin on our face,
Luggage is rattling all over the place.
"What’s in the bottle, sir? Is it a crime?"
"Nah mate, that’s ginger, it’s hangover time!"
We’re flying through Houston, New York, and LA,
If the barman runs out, there’ll be hell to pay!
[Bridge: The Customs Stomp]
(The music drops to just a thumping bass drum, handclaps, and clinking pint glasses)
(Crowd Chant—building up from a whisper to a absolute roar)
You can take our premium tax...
You can check our luggage bags...
But you’ll never take... OUR IRN-BRU!
3, 2, 1... CAN YOU DIG IT?!
[Chorus: Final Explosion]
(Maximum festival volume, crowd bouncing, absolute carnage)
Oh, stock up the booze, we are drinking you dry!
The Tartan Army is touching the sky!
Don’t mess with our tattie scones at the gate,
We’re here for the football, the party is great!
Win, lose, or draw, we will sing it so loud,
Making the whole of Scotland so proud!
[Outro]
(The heavy beat stops, leaving a rowdy acoustic pub sing-along vibe)
(Crowd singing arm-in-arm, clinking glasses)
So empty the taps, and put on the tea...
The Tartan Army’s in the Land of the Free!
(Sound of a can of Irn-Bru cracking open right next to the microphone)
"Ahhhh, that's the stuff."
(Cheers and roaring laughter fade out)
Kevin Laden 
