I trod a lonely Scottish road-
My thoughts long miles away.
In other lands and other climes,
And other, better days…
I’d ‘eard the clans were gathered-
An’ thot I’d gather too-
An’; quaff a tankard, love a lass-
As travelers like to do.
An’ talk wi’ mates, I’d long not seen
We’d tell our tales o’ war-
An’ mates o’ our’n ‘ho’d crossed the Styx
‘at’s what clans gather for.
Per’aps I’d see sweet Moire Yoil-
On ‘oom I’d long been sweet.
An’ cowards in the roadside scarp
Expected not to meet….
A rustle in the roadside ‘eath-
Five jackals at me came….
I thought, “Poor fools! An evil day!
Ye dinna ken me name”.
Our blades di’ cross, an’ cross again
Thrust and parry, right an’ left.
I nicked the one who stood to front..
An’ ‘im upon my right I cleft!
Again, and then again, I struck!
Another fell, and then one fled…
Then came a blow from right behind..
My body fell among the dead.
I thought my time ‘ad come to cross-
On Charon’s barque, to join the brave..
An’ days ‘ad passed ere I awoke…
On bed of boughs deep in a cave.
A Druid, ye ken the ones I mean?
‘ose rituals be dark, and grim…
‘e ‘ealed me wi’ ‘is majick, lad-
I’d surely died, were not for ‘im.
‘e told me tales to chill me blood-
an’ touched me breast, ‘and cold as ice…
Said, “Warrior! Thou shalt never die!
Unending years shall be the price..
For sparing ye”. An’ then ‘e said-
“And thou must leave when east grows pale-
To live, to love, to fight…and then-
To spin again the Traveler’s Tale”.