Through the veil of night the elder moon
closed her gloomy eyes and cried
mourning tears which fell just like rain
on the Scottish battlefield
that I would come back safe and victorious
Full of pride I was marching with my kinsmen,
joyfull, wild and brave sons of the Highlands
Bagpipes shouted their cries weeps and wails
Now I find myself bleeding on the ground.
Oh! How much I wish I could have lived and returned...
- Where Exhale Is a Reward...
- A Never Told Prophecy
- Brian Boru's March
- Third Autumn and Winter
- The first notes of a trag..
- From the Fury of the Nors..
- The Rapture of a Butterfl..
- Lady Mary Hay's Scotch Me..
- Fallen! Fallen is Babylon..
- The Missing Boat