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NO MORE ©

Nick Dawson
Suffolk, England
2004

1.
The eagle may fly from glen to glen
and ne'r see a sight of our hi'land men
They all lie dead on Culloden's field
with broadsword in hand they would never yield

Chorus:
No more, no more, the highland charge
No more, no more the claymore and targe
No more, no more our tartan plaids
Our prince and laws now lie in rag's
Our prince and laws now lie in rag's

2.
Our loyalty deep in tradition's past
The Stuart cause we could not mask
In honour bound we lit the cross
to return to him all that was lost

3.
Now our children stand starving on the shore
Fathers and brothers they will see no more
Gone the lands of their ancient rights
Lost to those we can no longer fight

4.
The ships lie waiting their holds to fill
with those that would not bend to foreign will
Their tears fall silently to the ground
In distant lands they will now be found



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