My name is Ross
McGillivray, I am 17 and I live near Aberdeen in the North East. I use
Gaelic formations of words, such as Stuibhard for Stewart, and
Claidheamh mar for claymore. If you do not understand any other
portion of this poem please do not hesitate to ask.
O' ilka fowk an' ilka race
fa did e'er the Lord's earth grace
an' sic o'erwhelmind odds face
yet all the same
fite back foes at fierc'some pace
as my ane?
Wi' Whiskey guzzelt doon wir throats
sic fowk wid fite back Viking boats
swim in the scud, throu ice cauld moats
then fite an' fleg
William's nancy boy Redcoats
an' mak them beg.
Let wir pride the noo be shown
great sons o' the Stiùbhard throne
inventors o' the telephone
stand wi' pride
wi' steel defiance in wir bone
fu' hard inside.
Fan Cromwell did attack wir hame
wi' frilly fist an' fi'ry flame
in his attempt, the Scots tae shame
foo he did fail
tae singe awa' an ounce o' fame
only wir kail.
Mony a time it wid be
that we'd gar sic invaders flee
an' efterwards wi' best Whiskey
an' finest Ale
agither we wid drink an' 'gree
till we gid pale.
The hair on ilka back will bristle,
the wind in ilka lug will whistle,
the war-cry o' heather an' thistle
an' usurpers will meet dismissal
by wir blades.
The horn o' war fu' dinsome blaws,
the Saltire wir Scots brither caws
an' ilka sword on the South faws
so we'll brak
an' justly bust sic injust laws
that they'd mak.
Eywis ootnumber'd ten tae wan
but ilka time foo we did stun
the invaders an' gar'd them run
jist wan wird was hird: "FREEDOM!"
frae ilka mouth!
Glory tae the men fa' woud
in clanship an' britherhood
in sacrifice ging spil thir blude,
as martyrs faw.
Fir land an' clan like heroes stood
we hail yis aw!
So wance again agither stan'
wi' colt and claidheamh mar close tae hand
defiant tae the South deman'
Freedom for wir Faitherland
or else we fite!
Copyright Ross McGillivray 2006