FREEDOM'S SWORD


In days gone by, Scots workin man
Was loyal tae his feudal clan.
For what was wrong and what was right,
His cause was always Scotlands fight.
And I was born neath Scotias Hills,
My heart with Highland grandeur fills.
For with the Garrys waters flows,
A history bitter more than the sloe.

The Bruce and Wallace cracked the band,
That fettered loyal Scottish hands.
And for a while our land was free,
Then came the shame of sixteen-three.
King James the Christians wisest fool,
Forsook his name the South to rule.
But soon he spawned a Stuart son,
Who vainly faced Cullodens guns.

From Berwick North tae John O'Groats
The Lairds have donnned their Saxon coats.
And who for Scotlands freedom stood,
Soon drowned in false Westminsters flood.
We labored neath the Saxon yoke,
MacGregors name shall neer be spoke.
The hills are over run with sheep,
And freedom has been put to sleep.

But times have changed the years have gone,
Yet English justice lingers on.
Our working men as in the past,
Betrayed by Saxon ruling class.
The time is right; the time is now,
Renew your patriotic vow.
I fear no hell nor English strife,
For Scotland I will give my life.


Gordon Menzies