Echoes In The Fells

The Bowland Fells at night
Are still haunted by spectral lights
Rushing through the trees
Like charging English knights…

Time after time their lances strike
‘Gainst the Scottish stones they crash
In vain! They can’t prevail any more
Than in the battle of Clitheroe!

Duncan’s troops hold fast in line
All of Lancashire rings from the fight!
Highlander rage coursing through their veins
The English rank and file is soon put to flight!

In an age of Anarchy
When ruled the sword
And the marauder’s law
Scotland’s sons did seize the day:

The lands of England to invade
And for all past offences to retaliate
With their seething sea of steel
Of basket-hilts and claymores!

Duncan’s troops hold fast in line
All of Lancashire rings from the fight!
Highlander rage coursing through their veins
The English rank and file is soon put to flight!

The Fells are ours!
How sweet the sound
Of English horns that call “retreat!”

Come, forth, ye lads!
Let’s hunt them down!

By summer’s end
We’ll be in London Town!

Duncan’s troops hold fast in line
All of Lancashire rings from the fight!
Highlander rage coursing through their veins
The English rank and file is soon put to flight!