Lady Mary Hay's Scotch Measure - text
Through the veil of night the elder moon
closed her gloomy eyes and cried
mourning tears which fell just like rain
on the Scottish battlefield
that I would come back safe and victorious
Full of pride I was marching with my kinsmen,
joyfull, wild and brave sons of the Highlands
Bagpipes shouted their cries weeps and wails
Now I find myself bleeding on the ground.
Oh! How much I wish I could have lived and returned...
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