The Black-bird/Wallace’s Lament after the Battle of Falkirk
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WALLACE’S LAMENT,
After the Battle of Falkirk.
(Tune—Maids of Arrochar.)
Thou dark winding Carron, once pleasing to see,
To me thou can’t never give pleasure again,
My brave Caledonians he low on the lee,
And thy streams are deep ting’d with the blood of the slain!
'Twas base-hearted treachery that doom’d our undoing;
My poor bleeding country, what more can I do?
Ev’n Valour looks pale o'er the red field of ruin!
And Freedom beholds her best warriors laid low!
To me thou can’t never give pleasure again,
My brave Caledonians he low on the lee,
And thy streams are deep ting’d with the blood of the slain!
'Twas base-hearted treachery that doom’d our undoing;
My poor bleeding country, what more can I do?
Ev’n Valour looks pale o'er the red field of ruin!
And Freedom beholds her best warriors laid low!
Farewel, ye dear partners of peril, farewel!
Tho’ buried ye lie in one wide bloody grave,
Your deeds shall ennoble the place where you fell,
And your names be enroll’d with the sons of the brave:
Tho’ buried ye lie in one wide bloody grave,
Your deeds shall ennoble the place where you fell,
And your names be enroll’d with the sons of the brave:
But I, a poor outcast, in exile must wander;
Perhaps, like a traitor, ignobly must die!
On thy wrongs, O my country! indignant I ponder—
Ah! woe to the hour when thy Wallace must fly.
Perhaps, like a traitor, ignobly must die!
On thy wrongs, O my country! indignant I ponder—
Ah! woe to the hour when thy Wallace must fly.
. . .———. . .———. . .