Post by annbkeller on Jul 27, 2008 6:48:44 GMT -5
HADRIAN’S WALL
I come to the doorway to Scotland
On a cool, misty morning veiled in rain,
Skirt the vigilant, red furry cattle
As a single bird begins his refrain.
It is barely past dawn, the waking hour
And even the sun is still blinking,
As I stand at the wall, glancing down
At the mire into which I’m surely sinking.
These gray stones were touched by the Romans,
Intruders in this distant land,
To hold back the hordes of painted Devils
Who valiantly made quite a stand.
I am one of them, these brave Scots of old
And I hold that heritage most dear,
In my heart, I feel them calling to me,
Hear the call of the pipes in my ear.
Over the grayish green mountains, they beckon,
Where crofter’s huts stand stark under the sky,
And castles and towers are lived in still,
Where once the great lords did lie.
William Wallace called us to freedom
And his spirit lives on to this day,
Fierce and proud in the heart of all from this land,
And there, unblemished, will it stay.
I share your spirit, ye men of old,
The call of the pipes over the mountain,
As my heart swells nearly to bursting
And my voice rises up like a fountain.
I sing to you, oh, cherished clan
Reach out and call you my brother,
Dance over the swords, and enfold my arms
Round an uncle, a sister, a brother.
Though I dwell in the present, I am with you,
United in one purpose are we,
Clothed in badges, pins and bright tartans,
That lift our skirts high above our knee.
So, I stand at this wall made from coarse gray stone
And shiver at the chill all around me,
I marvel at its length, as it crowns all the hills
In an unbroken line of Rome’s glory.
But Hadrian forgot one important point,
Ignored one thing in this undertaking,
One cannot contain a spirit,
The soul of a nation in the making.
This memory I’ll treasure forever,
Though the sea and the land stretches wide,
My Scottish brothers and sisters,
Forever shall I stand at your side.
I come to the doorway to Scotland
On a cool, misty morning veiled in rain,
Skirt the vigilant, red furry cattle
As a single bird begins his refrain.
It is barely past dawn, the waking hour
And even the sun is still blinking,
As I stand at the wall, glancing down
At the mire into which I’m surely sinking.
These gray stones were touched by the Romans,
Intruders in this distant land,
To hold back the hordes of painted Devils
Who valiantly made quite a stand.
I am one of them, these brave Scots of old
And I hold that heritage most dear,
In my heart, I feel them calling to me,
Hear the call of the pipes in my ear.
Over the grayish green mountains, they beckon,
Where crofter’s huts stand stark under the sky,
And castles and towers are lived in still,
Where once the great lords did lie.
William Wallace called us to freedom
And his spirit lives on to this day,
Fierce and proud in the heart of all from this land,
And there, unblemished, will it stay.
I share your spirit, ye men of old,
The call of the pipes over the mountain,
As my heart swells nearly to bursting
And my voice rises up like a fountain.
I sing to you, oh, cherished clan
Reach out and call you my brother,
Dance over the swords, and enfold my arms
Round an uncle, a sister, a brother.
Though I dwell in the present, I am with you,
United in one purpose are we,
Clothed in badges, pins and bright tartans,
That lift our skirts high above our knee.
So, I stand at this wall made from coarse gray stone
And shiver at the chill all around me,
I marvel at its length, as it crowns all the hills
In an unbroken line of Rome’s glory.
But Hadrian forgot one important point,
Ignored one thing in this undertaking,
One cannot contain a spirit,
The soul of a nation in the making.
This memory I’ll treasure forever,
Though the sea and the land stretches wide,
My Scottish brothers and sisters,
Forever shall I stand at your side.