Sunday, April 18, 2010
So, the Scots lost Culloden and their whole way of living was in danger of being destroyed by English rule. I always find it so amazing that Scotland has always survived even though they have been beaten and battered through their long history of invasion and terror and tyranny. It's one of the smallest countries in the world, but they have had one of the biggest world-wide impressions. (It's been said that the Scots invented the modern world) and they show their faces through everyone's history. Instead of just talking about the aftermath of Culloden, I decided to post this poem I wrote conveying some of the feelings I thought someone who fought under Prince Charlie might have had after the defeat at Culloden. It's called "Highlander's Lament After Culloden."
Where is the Highland courage
That we saw in days lang gone?
When oor men fought wi' nae reserve
An' money a battle won.
Scotland's courage is noo a' fled
An' we're left wi' a hollow land.
Oh, why this e'er had tae be
I'll ne'er understand!
We met the English on Drumossie Moor
Where we fought the battle sair;
Wi' oor rightful king at oor head,
Ye'd think that wouldna dare!
But the Sassenachs stripped us of oor rights
Tae be Scottish anymore.
They've ta'en awa' oor tartan plaid
An' oor e'er true Claymore.
They've chased us oot o' oor dear land,
Made fugitives of us a'.
But one thing we ken in each oor heairts
Is that we will defy them until we fa'.
Mony are exiled on France's shores,
Perhaps ne'er tae see their land again.
Captive wi' their king in a foreign land,
Chased frae the field of battle we couldna win.
Other hae been ta'en captive,
Tried and butchered in London Toon.
But oor men are brave and oor heairts are true,
And at least in spirit they'll ne'er bring us doon.
We're hunted and harried and murdered and tried,
We're exiled and ta'en awa' frae oor hames.
A' oor brave men lay on bloody Culloden,
The birds picking o'er their bleach-ed banes.
Perhaps some day, the time will come
When Chairlie will come once more.
He may be triumphant, he may right oor wrangs;
He may be defeated like we were before.
But until that time, we'll drink a toast,
Always tae the King O'er the Sea.
And do or die, we'll wait for him
Until he comes back oor king tae be!
Here's a song for the day as well: Highlander's Farewell