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Who heard the ancient
battlecry?
A chieftans bloodied sword held high,
To a cloudy cross in the azure sky,
Who is a Scot?
Who saw proud Wallace's face?
Guardian of our Celtic race,
Slay tyrants with his sword and mace,
Who is a Scot?
Who smelt the blood and sensed the fear?
Who felt The Bruce's spirit near?
At Bannockburn who shed a tear?
Who is a Scot?
Who knew the pride felt at Arbroath?
Which freemen love and tyrants loathe,
To sign the pledge and take the oath.
Who is a Scot?
Who felt the shame and shivered cold?
Their heritage and their freedom sold,
For a wagonload of tainted gold,
Who is a Scot?
Who paid a heavy bloodsoaked toll?
So foreign powers could ne'er control,
My Gaelic heart and Celtic soul,
I am a Scot!
See
also Gerry's Poem "Seed of Conn" |
