A Hundred Men Are Fighting

© By Bersi Ormstunga (David Seguin)



A hundred men are fighting, 
On the Highlands on the moors, 
A Scottish army gathered, to fight an English war,
The king has come a fighting,
To settle ancient scores,
The price of home and family,
Are the burdens that we bore,

A hundred men are dying,
On the Highlands on the moors,
The family sword is bloody,
And my shield is wrent and torn,
My family honor guards me,
An armor to their swords,
The English had no pride,
They are but rapists,
And they're whores,

Eighty men are dying,
On the Highlands on the moors,
I was but a young man,
When I went off to the wars,
To join my Scottish clansmen,
To put the English to the sword,
But now we face an army,
And we are but four score,

Now Forty men are dying,
On the highlands on the moors,
Now my sword arms weary,
And I'm shivered to the core,
They've cut down my kinsmen,
Like sheaf's of wheat and corn,
Taking all the brightest, 
Leaving only me to mourn,

Now Twenty men are dying,
On the highlands on the moors,
In my final moments, 
I wonder what's in store,
With one final sword thrust,
I feel my tales no more...


Pubear's note: I wrote this one afternoon at my first SCA event in 6 1/2 years. I suspect that if your personae is scottish, you'll love it. If it's english, you probably won't like it as much.