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Drummossie Moor ©

Jim McRobert
Edinburgh, Scotland

As I rode across Drummossie Moor,
I found an wounded man
I thought this man was dying
so asked him of his Clan
He whispered it was Fraser,
He had stood beside the Flag
Faced the guns of Cumberland
With his Lord the Lovat stag

He told me of the Bloody deeds
The charge and how he'd fought
Then lying there for two whole days
Bloodied, wounded, shot
He told me of the collecting carts
Then dumped by firing wall
He told me of the musket crack
The pain of tearing ball

He told me how he saw it all
As he lay upon the ground
He told me how they beat them
To kill each man they found
He begged me take him to a farm
A place for him to hide
He begged me find him sanctuary
Till his Heron stemmed the tide

So I took him to a hostel
And hid him from all eyes
I left him to recover
He praised me with his cries
He thanked me for my help
A promise he would pay
He'd pay me back a hundred-fold
If he lived another day

Well he lived a long, long life
But I, my Lord, did not
Despite those wounds so terrible
He was a hardy Scot
And as I ride Drummossie Moor
With angels by my hand
I see the scourge of Highland folk
By the Butcher Cumberland.

We hoped they'd fight with honour
As Gentlemen would do
But they slaughtered us like animals
Aye slaughtered us like animals
Slaughtered us like animals
Upon Drummossie Moor

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