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| Lady Keith's Lament |






































| A simple brief thought on Scottish Independance. Were the outdated union not of some very high value to England and the English, why would they fight so to try to keep it? There are only so many slices to a pie, for one to have more, another must have less. Lastly - to those Scottish "Loyalists" - to whom are you loyal? Scots royalty died in the 1700's so it can be no Scots crown - And certainly not it appears to those who came before, that bled for Scotland and her freedom ! |










| In the words of Burns, as he wrote from the heart. Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie. Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lour; See approach proud Edward's power, Chains and slaverie. Wha would be a traitor-knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a Slave? Let him turn and flie: Wha for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or free-man fa', Let him follow me. By Oppression's woes and pains! By your Sons in servile chains! We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be free! Lay the proud Usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow! Let us Do - or Die!!! Choose your destiny. |
| I may sit in my wee croo hoose At the rock and the reel tae toil fu' dreary I may think on the day that's gane And sigh and sob till I grow weary I ne'er could brook, I ne'er could brook A foreign loon tae own and flatter But I will sing a rantin' sang That day oor King comes ower the water I hae seen the guid auld day The day o' pride and chieftain's glory Whan Royal Stuart bare the sway And ne'er heard tell o' Whig or Tory Tho' lyart be my locks and grey And auld has crook't me doon, what matter I'll dance and sing ae ither day That day oor King comes ower the water Gin I live tae see the day That I hae begged and begged frae heaven I'll fling my rock and reel away And dance and sing fae morn till even For there is ane I wadna name Wha comes the beengin' byke tae scatter And I'll put on my bridal goon That day oor King comes ower the water Curse on dull and drawling Whig The whining, ranting, low deceiver Wi' heart sae black and look sae big And cantin' tongue o' clishmaclaver My faither was a guid Lord's son My mither was an Earl's daughter And I'll be Lady Keith again That day oor King comes ower the water |
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