Sheena Blackhall

Gold Star - 5,789 Points (18/8/1947 / Aberdeen)

Bannockburn 1314 - Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Stirlin Castle lay in Inglis hauns
Beseiged bi Scots, a biggin strang an stoot
Edward, the Bruce’s brither, ringed it roon
Ettled tae sterve the furreign sodjers oot.

The Englishman, King Edward traivelled North.
Wi wechty cavalry, Welsh bowmen, infantry
Weapons, siege engines, buglers, meat an wines,
Wi Knichts an Barons, prood clanjamphrey

Aa marched tae Stirlin, takkin the Roman road.
The Bruce placed men wi widlan at their back
He chuse his grun fu weel. A nerra gap
Atween the trees, should ony challenge, brakk

He set his pikemen heich on Gillies Hill,
Close whaur the the road fords ower the Bannock Burn.
Inbye the wids he blockit paths wi boughs,
Leavin the Inglis little room tae turn

Tae cowp the Inglis shelties should they charge
He howked pits, an happit them wi sticks,
An syne, he wyted, wi his waa o spears.
As stinch a waa as ony vrocht wi bricks

Fechtin brukk oot, the Scottish pikemen held
The beast o War, sherpened its teeth an cleuks
Like ninepins Inglis cavalry wis felled
Men crawled tae dee wi fiers, in bluidy neuks

The Inglis forces crossed the Bannock Burn
Henry De Bohun, a young Inglis knicht
Spied a lane horseman on the Scottish front
Weirin a croon, the Scots King in plain sicht

Forrit De Bohun rade wi deidly lance
As Robert raised his battle-aixe alaft
Stude in his stirrups, jinked the comin cloor
An split the foe-man’s skull-bane fore an aft

Thon nicht the English camped, Bruce planned aheid.
Ower fu o deep consarns tae brakk breid
The hinmaist fecht wad be upon the morn
The verra day the Baptist, John, wis born.

Bi day-brakk, aa the Scots war in position.
King Edward, saw the Scotmen kneel in prayer

An leuch, nae kennin they socht Heiven’s blessin
Thinkin they prigged for mercy, ooto fear

Straicht ooto Revelations, aa in reid
Horseman o War breenged oot on fiery steed

The Bruce’s pikemen, stinch as porcupine
Cowped Inglis shelts at ilkie gory meetin
The Scotsmen focht wi steel doon ilkie spine
Welsh bowmen skewered their Inglis fiers retreatin.

The bonnie Bannock burn wis smored wi deid
An ran for mony days wi sodjers’ bluid
Edward tuik ship fur hame, a beaten cur
Fechtin for freedom gies the weakest, virr
An smeddum, tae rise up an takk a staun
Strivin fur liberty an native lan.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, June 28, 2009

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