Ghosts of Culloden

Can you hear them?
Can you see them
Marching proudly across the moor?

Hear the wind blow
Through the drifting snow,
Tell me can you see them
The ghosts of Culloden?

Many bravely fought,
Sadly they were slain,
But they died with such pride & dignity,
Their lives were not in vain.

We still remember them,
They fought to save their land,
And died for liberty.

Through the mist you hear
A lonely piper play.
Listen carefully, you'll hear a mournful cry.

Swords and bayonets crash
As man to man they clash.
They came to fight to live and now they die.

Can you hear them?
Can you see them
Marching proudly across the moor?

Hear the wind blow
Through the drifting snow,
Tell me can you see them,
The ghosts of Culloden?

~~ Isla Grant ~~

Dark Lochnagar

Away ye gay landscapes, ye gardens o' roses
In you let the minions of luxury rove
And restore me the rocks where the snowflake reposes
If still they are sacred to freedom and love

Brave Caledonia, dear are thy mountains
Round their white summits though elements war
Though cataracts roar 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains
I sigh for the valley o' dark Lochnagar

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wandered
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid
On chieftains departed my memory lingered
As daily I strayed through the pine-covered glade

I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays o' the bright polar star
My fancy was cheered by the bold martial story
As told by the sons o' dark Lochnagar

Years have rolled on, Lochnagar, since I left you
Years must roll on ere I see you again
Though Nature of verdure and flowers bereft you
Yet still art thou dearer than Albion's plain

England! thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roved on the mountains afar
Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic
The steep frowning glories o' dark Lochnagar

Brave Caledonia, dear are thy mountains
I sigh for the valley o' dark Lochnagar
Ill-starred now the brave, did no vision foreboding
Tell you that fate had forsaken our cause?

Yet were you destined to die at Culloden
Though victory crowned not your fall with applause
Yet were you happy in death's earthly slumber
To sleep wi' your clan in the caves of Braemar

The pibroch resounds to the piper's loud number
Your deeds to the echoes of dark Lochnagar
Brave Caledonia, dear are thy mountains
I sigh for the valley o' dark Lochnagar

He will go, He will go with me...

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Théid mo leannan leam a phòsadh
Dh'aindeoin 's na tha beò 's na chailleadh

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam


Théid mo leannan leam a sheòladh
Luingeas mhór na' ròpan fada

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Seòlaidh sinn a-null air fairge
'S fàgaidh sinn aig Alba beannachd

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Théid e leam a-null air chuantan
Far nach toir 'ad bhuain a' fearann

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Mar a nìthear na'r dùthaich
'S fheudar cùl thoirt dhith dh'ar n-aindeoin

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Buailibh luaidhibh an clò
'Son briogais phòsda dha mo leannan

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Buidhe, buidhe mar a' sìthean
Fear dhan tug mi fhìn mo ghealladh

Théid is gun téid e leam
Leam-sa gun téid mo leannan
Théid is gun téid e leam

Savannah Scottish Games 2007

23rd Psalm

23rd Psalm

The Lord is my Shepherd in nocht am I wantin'
In the haugh's green girse does
He mak me lie doon
While mony puir straiglers are bleatin' and pantin'
By saft-flowin' burnies He leads me at noon.

When aince I had strayed far awa in the bracken,
And daidled till gloamin' cam ower a' the hills,
Nae dribble o' water my sair drooth to slacken,
And dark grow'd the nicht wi' its haars and its chills.

Awa frae the fauld, strayin' fit-sair and weary,
I thocht I had naethin' tae dae but tae dee.
He socht me and fand me in mountain hechts dreary,
He gangs by fell paths which He kens best for me.

And noo, for His name's sake, I'm dune wi' a' fearin'
Though cloods may aft gaither and soughin' win's blaw.
"Hoo this?" or "Hoo that?" - oh, prevent me frae spearin'
His will is aye best, and I daurna say "Na".

The valley o' death winna fleg me to thread it,
Through awfu' the darkness, I weel can foresee.
Wi' His rod and His staff He wull help me to tread it,
Then wull its shadows, sae gruesome, a' flee.

Forfochen in presence o' foes that surround me,
My Shepherd a table wi' denties has spread.
The Thyme and the Myrtle blaw fragrant aroond me,
He brims a fu' cup and poors oil on my head.

Surely guidness an' mercy, despite a' my roamin'
Wull gang wi' me doon tae the brink o' the river.
Ayont it nae mair o' the eerie an' gloamin'
I wull bide in the Hame o' my Faither for ever.

AMEN