Precious Few Heroes

I was listening to the news the other day
I heard a fat politician who had the nerve to say
He was proud to be Scottish, by the way
With the the glories of our past to remember
“Here’s tae us, wha’s like us?” Listen to the cry
No surrender to the truth and here’s the reason why
The power and the glory’s just another bloody lie
They use to keep us all in line

Chorus:
For there’s no gods and there’s precious few heroes
But there’s plenty on the dole in the Land o’ the Leal
And it’s time now to sweep the future clear
Of the lies of a past that we know was never real

Sae farewell to the heather in the glen
They cleared us off once and they’d do it all again
For they still prefer sheep to thinking men
Ah but men who think like sheep are even better
There’s nothing much to choose between the old laird and the new
They still don’t give a damn for the likes of me and you
Just mind ye pay your rent to the factor when it’s due
And mind your bloody manners when ye pay!

(Chorus)

And tell me, will we never hear the end
Of puir bluidy Charlie at Culloden yet again?
Though he ran like a rabbit down the glen
Leaving better folk than him to be butchered
Or are you sittin in your Council house dreaming o’ your clan?
Waitin’ for the Jacobites tae come and free the land?
Try goin doon the broo with your claymore in your hand
And count a’ the Princes in the queueI

(Chorus)

So don’t talk to me of Scotland the brave
For if we don’t fight soon there’ll be nothing left to save
Or would you rather stand and watch them dig your grave
While ye wait for the Tartan messiah?
He’ll lead us tae the promised land wi laughter in his eye
We’ll all live on the oil and the whisky by and by
Free heavy beer, pie suppers in the sky
Will we never have the sense to learn?

That there’s no gods and there’s precious few heroes
But there’s plenty on the dole in the Land o’ the Leal
And I’m damn sure that there’s plenty live in fear
Of the day we stand together with our shoulders at the wheel
Aye there’s no gods

No Gods and Precious Few Heroes,  Brian McNeill.

Is It True That He’s a Traitor?

James Graham, 1st Marquess of Montrose.

Montrose, Montrose, you were the rose
You gave your life for loyalty
But it’s no’ the hour for a rose tae flower
Between the kirk and royalty
Montrose

Father, father, tell me, why do the horsemen ride
Why do the troopers look so grim by Jamie Graham’s side
Is it true that he’s a traitor, father, tell me why
There’s no’ a man among them all will look him in the eye

Hide your eyes, my bonny boy, for the deed is a’ but done
The headsman’s axe will win the day, the Graham’s race is run
For honour rode with courage, but evil rode with guile
And the darkest horse among them a’ was the vengeance of Argyll

Hearken now, my bonny boy, as we stand before the kirk
Or does the thunder o’ the horses’ hooves hide a’ the devil’s work
For the Covenant’s a Campbell mare that rides across the law
And ere a Stuart bridles her, a Graham’s heid must fa’

I’ll read you now a riddle by the shining o’ the moon
When king and kirk sit down tae sup, wha needs the longer spoon
When Scotland hides her head in shame and justice looks awa’
And the scaffold buys an English throne wi’ the bravest heart of a’

Montrose, Brian McNeill.