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Poems of Mac McAnear
The Scot

The foe does not simply down a Scot
Whom hes bested in a fight
Must give him everything hes got
Cleave with all his might! 

Otherwise the Gaels back in battle
Afore the cock crows at dawn
Soon as hes seen after his cattle
Cared for his wounds on the lawn! 

Unknown the numbers suffered this fate
Thinking to have the day
Though long as theres life and he in a state
The Scot will have a say! 

Sure there are times it favors the foe
Blood spilled that of his own
Unthinkable laid permanently low
Not defend to the death his home! 

Far too long hes bled on this ground
From axe, sword, and gun
To ever quit, run from the mound
Hear enemy exult hes won!

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