700

“700” We stood upon a windy hill The sky a greying growling mass Amid a motely gathering Of Knights and weathered fighters Warriors old who stood wi Wallace And led by Moray,s standard. They wept when both had passed Now ready at The Bruce,s side. Hearts filled with nationalistic pride They brought their tools of trade Sickles and hammers alongside Swords and pikes and targes To fight and die glorious nameless For the taste of freedoms wine. The cry of freedom echoes From village to distant hill As The Bruce roars out a command Raising the sword from Wallaces hand Towards the massed ranks of heavy horse Floundering in scotia,s mud The burn it flows on turned red With warriors life and blood. ................................... Seven hundred years have flown And as we stand again upon a hill A choice has to be made Whether to grow and flourish To stay under anothers hand Once again the banners fly Under a greying, growling sky. (to commemerate the 700th anniversary of Scotlands fight to be a kingdom)