Saturday, November 16, 2013




Born in a dream of Scottish unity
St Andrew promises victory
With impunity
Over the massed English foes
At Athelstaneford
And in the morn
A nation was born
As the cloudy cross
Stretched in the blue sky
Above the battle
That decreed the Apostle
Was for Scotland


Colourful districts
A patchwork of fate
A full-blooded charge
Like a river in spate
The claymore and pibroch
The plaid and the croft
The spirit on free wings
Flying aloft on the tide of time
A family of the Clan
The great glens of Man
In a dance that longs to be home


The mist covered mountains
And peat water glens
The ancient bones
With fingers of pine
The stag and the coast
The wandering ghost
Awaiting a sign
The croft in the Bens
The sparkling fountains
The fox in the dens
Such granite as these will stand


Soaring aloft on the updraft
Of crags
And diving a drop onto a beastie
That lags behind the pack
Imperial gold with
Talons of steel
Rapidly deploying
Vigilant and free
Its ancient feathers
By the decree of
The carnate cycle


Misty islands of the setting sun
Wave crashing shores
The tides of the minches
And fishermans nets
And standing stones
The Atlantic beach
On the brink of a storm
Selkie taking human form
From their underwater palace


Athens of the North
For enlightened Scots
Edins worth is not in thoughts
Nor its seven mystical hills
For its theatrical intellects
A new and old town
Delving deep into caverns
And faerie stories
Told in taverns after a wee dram
Castle and palace and
Seat of determination
The flags are flying
The fireworks fly for the
Dream that was the azure sky
And saltire clouds


Prickly purple
Sovereign plant
Mover of bones and gristle
Resistance and calling
The weeds of the thistle
Stubborn and hard
To handle is bad
The Scottish bard
Will sing of its roots
Borne upon the winds of time
Its endless shoots uprising
To greet the morning


Darkened stone against the tide
Of armies broken at its side
The fortress of hope
For some a hassle
The resistance of a Scottish castle
Sitting there on jut or gap
An inconvenience on the map
Just as the winds will bring a sail
The lasting memories of the Gael
Are the walls of its inclusion


The lost tribe of Dan
Fresh air in a can
The secretive plan
Of the Bloodline of Rosslyn
Our tartan procured
For the return of the Solan Steward
A prophesy foretold
Of the millennial King of Scotland
Whilst lost treasure does sleep
Way down in the deep
Of the Templar caverns
The Rossln secret Mary vowed to keep
Is whispered in the taverns


The Atlantic crashing
On the rocks
On granite bones
The storm does shock
Through fingers of cloud
Ever westward
Crying loud
The parting flock of geese
Whilst rain on the mountains and in the trees
A solemn release of morning


In what peak hides
the Solan Steward
In the purple heather of Scotland

The mountains wear
Their regal cloak
Glistening with the
Jewels of mist

And in the summer sun
The bees are busy
Bringing sweetness
As they ring the heatherbells
And in the glens
The sun has kissed
The blossom round the well


In evening light
The last days glimmer
Is reflected off the eternal mirror
Of the Loch
In dark and deep
Its cold waters turn from sleep
Down in the deep
There is a moan
As the spirit of the Kelpie
Roams the misty shoreline


The rolling lowland hills and dales
Roman forts, Pilgrim trails
Contentious castles
Ruined stone,
Battles for cattle, glory and pride
A Covenant with treasure
Down to the river Annan
Castles rise and fall
To the echoes of cannon
Fairy hills the full moon measure
Courting not unnatural displeasure
From the parade of fate

Scottish Andrew