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#1 2011-05-16 04:06:25
- Kormiak
- Return of the Bard
- From: Warrior's Hold
- Registered: 2011-03-01
- Posts: 5996
The Winter of 1743.
He was the last of his kind,
His family they killed,
And put him on the run.
Now, with his back to the sun,
He runs, from the baying hounds.
They called him a Black Beast,
Murderer of Woman and Child.
So, now, they chase him, the Son of Queen and his hounds,
Through the glen and dale,
Over the rock and heather.
They called him a Black Beast,
Murderer and Demon,
But all he ever wished,
Was to survive.
Now, he runs,
Yes, he runs......
As the musket fires,
And the hounds bay,
Along the trail,
Of the Last Wolf of Scotland.
Oh, the musket fires,
And the heather runs red,
And to the Lord's pleasure,
The Black Beast is dead.
Oh, the Last Wolf of Scotland,
Killed on the banks of the Findhorn,
May we always remember him,
And feel forlorn.
Oh, the Last Wolf of Scotland......
Last edited by Kormiak (2011-05-16 04:42:10)
Ná coiléar ná Corónach!
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#2 2011-05-16 04:16:10
- UlfrAndi
- Spirit Walker
- From: Your Darkest Dreams
- Registered: 2010-05-26
- Posts: 13066
Re: The Winter of 1743.
thats pretty cool man.
And if strength is born from heartbreak,
Then mountains I could move.
And if walls could speak,
I pray that they would tell me what to do
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#3 2011-05-16 04:24:07
- Kormiak
- Return of the Bard
- From: Warrior's Hold
- Registered: 2011-03-01
- Posts: 5996
Re: The Winter of 1743.
Thanks, and, now, here's the Gaelige version......
Bhà sé an deiridh dá sórt,
A chlann mharaigh siad,
Agus chuir sé ar na rith.
Anois, a bhfuil sé ar ais go dtà an ghrian,
Ritheann sé, ó na chú tafann.
D'iarr siad air Ainmhithe Dubh,
Dúmharfóir na Bhean agus LeanaÃ.
Mar sin, anois, tá siad tóir air, an MacQueen agus a chú,
TrÃd an ghleanna, gleann,
Thar an charraig agus fraoch.
D'iarr siad air Ainmhithe Dubh,
Dúmharfóir agus Ollphéist,
Ach go léir a theastaigh uaidh riamh,
An raibh chun maireachtáil.
Anois, ritheann sé,
Sea, ritheann sé ......
Mar an tinte muscaeid,
Agus an bhá chú,
Chomh maith leis an rian,
As an Mac TÃre Déanaà na hAlban.
Ó, an tinte muscaeid,
Agus ritheann an fraoch dearg,
Agus a pléisiúr an Tiarna,
Tá an Ainmhithe Dubh marbh.
Ó, an Mac TÃre Déanaà na hAlban
MaraÃodh ar bhruach na Findhorn,
Is féidir linn i gcónaà cuimhneamh air,
Agus dar Is gan à bheith.
Ó, an Mac TÃre Déanaà na hAlban ......
Last edited by Kormiak (2011-05-16 04:50:29)
Ná coiléar ná Corónach!
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