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
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