The Shadow of Beinn Bhreagh

I've climbed the Highland summit overlooking Ceilidh Brae down to Weeping Meadow where the hounds of hell would bay and maybe I was dreaming when I stumbled home at dawn the pipes were playing softly and Elizabeth was gone There's a ghost on every corner with a needle in his hand making seven angels in the Nova Scotian sand Leviathan goes dancing in the rising eastern tide barking at the voices that are buried deep inside Sometimes I think of dying when I hear an evening breeze whispers of salvation in the leaves of maple trees we shared a drink with Wallace he was trembling with grief The Margaree was haunted by a fiddler and a thief Songs of ancient Gaelic have bled throughout the years the drums had fallen silent as she dried her celtic tears kissed the sovereign angel in the shadow of Beinn Bhreagh and whiskey gave me courage in the eventide of day I've witnessed rivers burning as they fled into the sea Avalon was never meant for blades of grass like me my heart is beating gently with the rhythm on the shore dreaming of Victoria the widow of Bras'dor