They face the foe, discard their kilts
Their fired hearts, charged to the hilt
When freedom calls they cannot wilt
And hope this day when blood’s been spilt
It’s not theirs or their kind.
Longshanks looks on from his throne
Surrounded by his closest crones
Their wisdom he cannot condone
A better group he could not own
Usurpers bought and sold.
They charge bare naked one and all
A clansman’s right, Scot’s protocol,
In their hearts know some will fall
But freedom has a certain gall
Forward with the fight.
As terror shifts from face to face
To fall today means not disgrace
Scots’ hearts and minds are not displaced
For thousands more will take your place
To banish tyranny.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem