The Unveiling - by
Out of the mist of yearnings, prides, and shames
We raise our cairn of glorious regret,
And with God’s honour now unite the names
Men signed in bloody sweat.
pride
Here’s a health to them that’s awa - by
Here’s freedom to them that wad read,
Here’s freedom to them that wad write!
There’s nane ever fear’d that the truth should be heard,
But they whom the truth would indite.
from The Bruce - by
A! Fredome is a noble thing
/ Fredome mays man to haiff liking.
/ Fredome all solace to man giffis,
/ He levys at es that…
Dulce Et Decorum Est - by
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest / To children ardent for some desperate glory, / The…
Stanzas - by
When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, / Let him combat for that of his neighbours.
At the Tomb of Robert the Bruce, Dunfermline Abbey - by
In any other country
/ Your tomb
/ Would have been worn smooth
/ By our devotions
/
/ But here the notice says:
/ ‘Please do not touch.’
/
/ They should have…
People Made Glasgow - by
Shame in our hulls
/ why else would we drink to incoherence
/ jump on the heads of passing men
/ punch our women
/ tell our children…
Glory - by
I canna’ see ye, lad, I canna’ see ye,
/ For a’ yon glory that’s aboot yer heid,
/ Yon…
The Free Natioun - by
Preeve you tae me thare’s natiounhood,
/ and I sall preeve thare’s nane;
/ an that’s as gyte as your belief
/ that needs nae pruif…
Ghosts of War - by
When you and I are buried
/ With grasses over head,
/ The memory of our fights will stand
/ Above this bare and tortured land,
/ We…
A Sough o’ War - by
The corn was turnin’, hairst was near,
/ But lang afore the scythes could start
/ A sough o’…
Chaunticleer’s Prayer - by
Whit gart ye gie
/ peacocks thon
/ tails fu’ o eyes
/ Lord?
/ Lord?
/ It’s me
/ gaurs the sun rise!
/ …