Cursed! This country must be cursed!
The very shadows call me name.
A fool, and worse to make me camp-
In such a place, wi’ such a name!
Glencoe! Ah, the shame o’ it!
Robert Campbell, an’ ‘is ‘orde-
Came, professin’ aims o’ peace…
The villains left wi’ dripping swords.
Every shadow ‘olds a ghost-
Wha’ weeps for lives, by fate cut short.
Men, an’ women, wee bairns, too-
Ha’ entered in the realms of Morte!
Stone on stone, still mark the place-
Where Clan McDonald made their ‘omes-
Now on the foggy, Glencoe moors…
On’y ghost, and spectre roams.
Sleep? I doubt it much I do!
The slain ha’ come to air their woes.
At last I tend to understand…
Why now, no one to Glencoe goes.
But listen? Aye, I think I will….
Until the East begins to pale…
I trow I’ll get a lesson clear-
On which to base me Traveler’s Tales.
Visit My Home Page http://www.geocities.com/montcogunslinger/Traveler.html
[This message has been edited by Gunslinger (edited 04-17-2000).]