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Butcher's Harvest ©

D. A. MacMaster

"Fat Billy" they called him, William Augustus
that son of the Lairdie, who brought us to hell.
A Duke of the English and afraid of the Gael
Terror he brought us by fire, shot and shell.

The love of our Prince brought us to Drumossie
But in scarcely the time it takes me to tell
The best men of Gaeldom lay dead all around
At the hands of a killer more ruthless than Hell.

'Twas musket and cannon against broadsword and courage
Invading men stood while our clansmen did fall
Argyll and the Campbell did the work of the English
MacDonald in anger did no work at all.

Clan Chattan unarmèd the English ranks broke
Insulted, Clan Donald marched from the field
The Camerons, undaunted stood 'gainst hail of shot
Our clansmen, when beaten thought they could yield.

Our wounded were murdered by rope, blade and fire
By terror to rule us, the clans to destroy
And the giving of gold for the Prince's own life.
They could not, we would not, our honour destroy.

Duke William the Butcher, we met at Drumossie
His fear of our clansmen fell hard on the land.
His red-coated killers their honour betrayed
With fire, blood and pillage, laid waste to our land.

The clans now are broken and families gone
Our wives and our mothers are left all alone
Burned out of their homes at the word of the Butcher
The darkest of times for our land have begun.

Now only the children are left to our women
Our clansmen are driven from the land of their birth
The Butcher stands proud on the dead of Culloden,
But the clans now are scattered all over the earth.

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