Bruce's Address At Bannockburn

    Scots! wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
    Scots! wham Bruce has aften led,
    Welcome to your gory bed,
               Or to victory!

    Now's the day, and now's the hour;
    See the front o' battle lour:
    See approach proud Edward's power -
               Chains and slavery!

    Wha will be a traitor knave?
    Wha can fill a coward's grave?
    Wha sae base as be a slave?
               Let him turn and flee!

    Wha for Scotland's King and law
    Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
    Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
               Let him on wi' me!

    By oppression's woes and pains!
    By your sons in servile chains!
    We will drain our dearest veins,
               But they shall be free!

    Lay the proud usurpers low!
    Tyrants fall in every foe!
    Liberty's in every blow! -
               Let us do or die!

So may God ever defend the cause of truth and
liberty, as He did that day!  Amen.

Brave and proud,
He stood his ground,
A warrior painted blue.
A brazen man
Defends his clan
And to his word stays true.
Long hair flowing,
Into the night going
To the hills to find his peace.
So long the battle
In his head rattled!
He releases to the breeze
A cry that rolls
From his very soul
For the brothers,
Who by Death's hand,
Were taken aside
With courage and pride,
O'er to the Summerland.
A last small prayer
And he's done there
With what he has to do.
Then heads for home
No more alone...
This warrior painted blue.

Morgan Stardancer

 I feel it necessay to place a note here that the Celts had a tendancy to go into an altered state of conciousness

When in battle(much like the Viking beserkers) this was called the riastarthe,(cu-chulain )or battle rage.

It was sometimes brought on by shouting their battle cries, but there was also extant a suicidal warrior class

Who went into battle naked, numbed to pain and charged straight into the thickest battle-frothing at the mouth.

These warriors seemed inhuman in that they would fight on with mortal wounds that would rend most useless.

Now the druids may have aided this state with some kind of potion it has been suggested, especially the frothing.

The troops of rome had experienced this first hand when one celtic tribe wiped out romes army ripping the leigions to shreds with these shock troopers.

My Heart's In The Highlands

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer -
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North -
The birth place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forrests and wild-hanging woods;
Farwell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer -
Chsing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands, whereever I go.

Robbie Burns

The Lass That Made the Bed to Me

When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na whare to lodge till day:
By my gude luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care,
And Kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An bade her make a bed to me;
She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank - "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."

Chorus -  The bonie lass made the bed to me,
          The braw lass made the bed to me,
          I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
          The lass that made the bed to me.

She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
But I call'd her quickly back again,
To lay some mair below my head:
A cod she laid below my head,
And served me with due respect,
And, to salute her wi' a kis,
I put my arms about her neck.

Chorus: -...

"Haud aff your hands, young man! she said,
"And dinna sae uncivil be;
Gif ye hae ony luve for me,
O wrang ma my virginitie."
Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie,
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.

Chorus: -...

Her bosom was the driven snaw,
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,
The lass that made the bed to me.
I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again,
And aye she wist na what to say:
I laid her 'tween me and the wa';
The lassie thocht na lang till day.

Chorus: -...

Upon the morrow when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e;
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye aye shall make the bed to me."

Chorus: - ...

She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.

Chorus: -...