The clashing of blades sound out around him
Nightmare cries of the fallen fill the air,
Nudging his mount into the teeming stream
Intent to battle for his country fair,
Blood spreading on his tartan sashed shoulder
Shield held firm against the hard striking blows,
Aching knuckles numb and getting colder
His strong mount snorting water from its nose,
He sees enemy in armour sinking
As they spill from collapsing Stirling bridge,
Armed poorly with Scottish spikes unyielding
His brave countrymen run down from the ridge,
Desperate for freedom not glory, they war,
Do this Wallace soldier and peasants poor.

02/23/2002

Posted on 02/22/2002
Copyright © 2024 Audrey M Scott