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 © Graham Devenish | Year Posted 2020
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