When One Sits On the Moor
When one sits on the moor at this Culloden place
Where the Clans of the Tartan lay in deathly deface
On many a night through the following years
Families would gather, and continue their tears
If you listen carefully you can still hear their screams
Run through so young ending their freedom of dreams
When one sits on the moor at this Culloden place
Where a proud nation fell, nearly disappearing without trace
On many a night through the following years
From every nook and cranny we would rise again without fear
If you listen carefully you can still hear their screams
We are now a nation so proud, their tears to esteem
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010
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