The day after mist shrouded the moor
As crows and ravens fed on highland bones
The Flower of Scotlandwithered and fell
Under a volley of cannon hell.

The day after cries filled the air
Of men and boys crushed and broken
Amongst the heather lying in mud
Slowly dying without a word.

The day after the Heron flew
Proud men clutching bonnet blue
Fled for their lives to hill and glen
Chased by the butcher wreaking revenge.

The day after dreams had died
On that moor by Drummosie side
They bled and died for their king
Now only laments are left to sing.

Andrew Provan McIntyre                       04/02/2011.