Face to the wind in bitter cold
Beards crusted with ice
Gray eyes steeled in fierce rebellion
No foreign blade to master
The proud beating of a stout Highland heart.
The kilted clans had banned together
MacDonald and Fraser, Cameron and Stewart
A Bonnie Prince to lead them
Outnumbered, yet undaunted
Flags defiantly unfurled
A shaft of courage to drive sweet freedom
Home.
The bagpipe sounds its thrilling tune
The ranks in line of tartan shield
English cannon pounding
From generation to generation
Father and son
Kinsman and brother
A slow steady advance and
Charge!
Across the sodden moor
Broadswords waving
Over the blood-stained ground
A gallant fight of hand-to-hand
And death
At last succumbing
An hundred years and more…
No more.
The final thrust of grim Fate’s story
Here
Upon a Scots grave field of
Honor.
Laurence Overmire
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/culloden-moor-16-apr-1746/
