From a Heather Laden Hill

From a heather laden hill A Scots king looks down The march of his armies In their blood, his enemy drown His tartan clad warriors The joining of the clans MacDonald's, Fraser's and Stuarts To every single man With their claymores at the ready Across the fields they charge Five thousand Braveheart clansman Patriotic hearts so large They will never take our freedom They will never take our lands While a Scotsman breathes We will fight with our bare hands They charge into their enemy Bloodied fallen, strewn As blood rains everywhere Wars red monsoon Many hours later The sounds of dying men Boys among the still Thought their time was then On his heather laden hill Our Scots king looks down The march of his armies Have cut our enemy down We have driven them from our lands They will never darken our shores For if they ever return They will fear the Bravehearts roar http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php