On the barrens of Loch Feland
Near the hill of death and bone
Where the sky casts gray shadows
I will wait there for you alone
In my tattered highland kilt
One my father wore with pride
The tartan of New Scotland
Stained by the tears we cried
Nay my blade of war is weary
It has no will to fight again
I’ll near see me sons in this life
At least they’re spared the pain
For when the banner of Culodon
Flies blood red 'gainst the sky
So few stood against so many
Though now we wonder why
I hear the lpiper on a hillside
Someone beats the Thompson drum
No one can claim war as victory
For no one here has really won
Our pride took us into battle
Pride always goes before the fall
Youth’s names etched down in history
That’s all, that’s all, that’s all…
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My Brotha From a Different Motha...
NICE ! ! !
A L'l Piper in a Tartan # would Be Oh ! ! ! So Sweet
Nay ! Would it be a Sporan or Hagus that I'd Like 2 Eat...
Love'n'Light
Gypsy.xxx
Blessed Be ! ! !
This has an epic feel. Definitely a masterpiece! Bravo~ Sheila
Love & Light always and in all ways,
Joseph*
Hugs Kathy
Peace,
Dan
That the tartans of Macnab, Gordon and Mackintosh be at your side when your sword come down from the Highland's glens...
Georg
Love Tinka
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(
R~
Peace, Love, and Light,
Amber "V" Moonstone
:) Cherrypie
For no one here has really won
Quite a powerful piece, my friend, as is that graphic.
Dee
Love ya face Cuz XOXOXOXO, Rose