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Wallace

As Wallace lay on wood and blood His own, his care he did not heed Thoughts of moors and springtime flood Purple glens, the heather's bud The truth he knew had been his deed The court had called him traitor thee Sentenced him, like pawn, an object Against all England, no dignity A traitor to Edward? He was never his subject. Again he thought of heather's flower At peace, in quiet, he will pass When Edwards’ finished his devour With end coming and lest his power Scotland’s brave again to mass Again to rise, cause future graves To tell the truth, freedom is what’s best, Sons never live life like slaves, Clans will conquer all but knaves At the future King’s bequest To his freedom he now resigns Marching to heaven, regrets not one As tall as he stood, in his times Clans surround all in his mind Venture to the light, to the Son. Death and Victory Graham Alexander Devenish

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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