A BATTLE TO REMEMBER Upon the grasses of the highlands many centuries ago There was a battle for freedom or so the story goes, The times were hostile and dark, the Scots were so few The English had overruled and fear in clans ensued. Not a man was unburdened by the wraith of the Brits Not a woman was free to wed her man in bliss. But one man defied law for the love of his life Both ran away in the dark and she came back his wife. But never was anyone to know of this secret bond they shared For law stated Prima Nocta and deifiers was not spared. She wore his kerchief beneath her dress right beside her heart And like blissful lovers, they were never too far apart. But after a violent attack her secret was found, When a vile, sickly solider tore her dress down. And they charged her with treason and spilt her young blood, They called it unlawful...she called it love. And so this heroic story of freedom began, One man’s revenge brought together Scottish clans. They travelled far through the hills, marshes and trees, Gathering followers such as farmers, warriors and crazy thieves. The battle of Stirling Bridge tested these men’s courage and will, Outnumbered 5 to 1, with pitchforks, rags and only skill. But strong words did this man cry out before the battle then; “They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!” And lives were lost a plenty on that plain green field, Blue faces brushed with red but still Scots would never yield. And soon the Brits were running, the tables had turned. The clans were victorious, their hope in freedom earned. Scottish nobles heard legend of this man they call Wallace Will, And brought together council, to learn his plan and skill. But all Wallace had wanted was his wife back in his arms, To raise a family and grow crops in a quiet farm, But his fate had been sealed he was the leader of this pack, There was nothing else to do but continue to attack. One noble, Robert the Bruce was so impressed with he He saw the man he hoped for, the leader he wished to be. And yet the people were torn because they all knew That if they lost the battle, they were suffer more abuse. Despite all this, the rebellion fought another day, This time the British king himself leads into play. And so battle is needed one for freedom one for control And the day grows grim and dark as the battle takes its toll The Scots are defeated but Wallace can see his chance, He charges towards the King but is stopped by a British lance, But nothing is what it seems, the lances helmet comes loose, And behind the red British armour is none other than Robert the Bruce. But honour suddenly comes and he lets Will Wallace free, For there is nothing as awful as country treachery. And this man once leader hides for many a year, Keeping hope kindled in the clans that truly fear. Finally, hope pays off and the nobles agree to fight But nothing is what it seems that dark, cold, winter night. Wallace’s feet did not touch the stairs to the doors, Before he was beaten by the men whom he fought for. The tower of London is where he pays for his deeds, No matter the pain he will never beg, never plead. And he whispers as he sits in that rotten cell, “Give me the strength to die well.” Gloomy is the day that Will Wallace was put to death, A true warrior born and fate did all the rest. “Freedom!” he screamed as he kept his head high and proud But as the drums ceased, he saw her in the crowd Murron, her sweet face, her laughing smile And suddenly Will knew he would be with her in a while. Never did he leave her loving sights, My love, my true, my freedom….my wife…
Posted on: Wed, 31 Jul 2013 10:47:48 +0000