Tak oor grund from beneath oor hurdies
Burn oor birches aside the lough,
Besmirch hard fecht fur freedom,
Dictating oor days tae come,
No from the pint o a gun,
Fae laws an promises broken.
Lees an lees spout forth like watter
Lives expended as if they dinnae matter,
Feel the Jacobite spirit again,
Ready tae fecht like scotsmen again,
Like warrior poets risen from the glen,
Fae the mists o the past remember,
Oor freedom wis wun sending Edward hame,
Yon wis the past a new war begun noo,
No wi claymores ,targes an guns,
This time its ideals an Eton buffers,
Those who wid sell oor birthrights
Tae mak us slaves an servile peasants,
Using stealth ,treachery an unco ither weys
Rogues they be crooks ,cheats and thieves
Seeming beyond reproach wi things hidden
Frae us puir mortals aye they wull dae us doon,
Sic a time as this tae fecht fur whit is oors
Naw mair begging fur aa few scraps
Fae a table fu wi guid things ,
Scraps urny fur us we ur free loons
Burthit free an deeing we wull be free,
Ur ye ready tae rise yince agin?
Andrew P mcintyre 14/09/2020
Categories:
jacobite, anger, conflict, freedom, heartbreak,
Form: Dramatic Verse
Actual aptitude and action almost always align aright.
Beautiful bliss, beastly belligerent behaviors: both burn bright.
Caringly convinced, cantankerous curmudgeons collapse, contrite.
Disdaining darkness, devoted disciples dig deep, discover delight.
Erudite, eager efforts encourage, energize, even excite.
For faithful few, fortitude, ferocious fight favors failed, feeble flight.
Gesticulating graders generate ghastly groans grinding graphite.
Happily, Horton has highly honed hearing; howler has humble height.
Invite ideas, ignite ingenuity, illumine insight.
Jaundiced jackboot juxtaposing "justice", jubilation: Jacobite.
Kindly koala kid keeps knitting knotted kaleidoscopic kites.
Levity lifts languishing leanings, leaves listeners luminous, light.
Mellifluously mild merriment mellows mad, malevolent might.
----------
Lol, this is an abecedarian monorhyme of alliterative monokus.
Not sure I'll get to the second half
Categories:
jacobite, silly,
Form: Monoku
Early in the morning of 13 February 1692, in the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution and the Jacobite uprising of 1689 led by John Graham of Claverhouse, a massacre took place in Glencoe, in the Highlands of Scotland. This incident is referred to as the massacre of Glencoe, or in Scottish Gaelic Mort Ghlinne Comhann, or murder of Glencoe. The massacre began simultaneously in three settlements along the glen—Inverness, Inverrigan, and Achnacon—although the killing took place all over the glen as fleeing MacDonalds were pursued. Thirty-eight MacDonalds from the Clan MacDonald of Glencoe were killed by the guests who had accepted their hospitality, on the grounds that the MacDonalds had not been prompt in pledging allegiance to the new monarchs, William and Mary. Another forty women and children died of exposure after their homes were burned.
the air brisk
as it moves across the clover
rolling thistledown
heart tendered tears cascade
through, sacred sod of Glencoe
Categories:
jacobite, bereavement,
Form: Narrative
Look at me now, sitting below darkening skies
Cast out from our Highland home
The Clans now is spiteful despise
To the Glens we shall head, us the fortunate to roam
Away from the Jacobite scum, for us they'll continue to comb
These clearances they declare to be right
What gives them this credence this crime
In the name of their false King, once again we'll stand and fight
Soon the loyal to Alba, shall await their very time
To infiltrate, retaliate, in silence we'll strike so primed
The days pass into weeks, nowhere can we be found
On our peripheral they search and seek us
The clever in us, disappear deep underground
You can hear their English voices searching in our lush
Foul mouthed tirades of sectarianism, voiced in hatred cuss
It's now twenty eleven, to this day it beggars belief
That I read about my fellow past Clansmen
And their greed to betray, for ripened grief
Our day is not so far away, when the true Clans men
Shall vote for total autonomy, it's just a matter of when
.
Categories:
jacobite, day, hope, people, places,
Form: Quintain (English)