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Sons of Scotland

 

Sons of Scotland, sons of the war
Centuries of anger and pain
The stars above your head and the earth beneath your feet
Hunting, fighting, killing is your deed

Drums of war, fiddles of the damned
Now my death near at my hand
Glory to my sword, my ancestors in pride
With lightnings I ignite fires in the night

Warlords of the Celts, heroes of the clans
With our brothers we will fight 'til death
We hold high our fists and our cries hall through the hills
Whispering ravens flying at our side

Drums of war, fiddles of the damned
Now my death near at my hand
Glory to my sword, my ancestors in pride
With lightnings I ignite fires in the night

Sons of Scotland, sons of the war
England shall bleed 'til the rivers turned deep red
Blood will paint our hands and the fields will drink our tears
Died for the freedom in our land

Drums of war, fiddles of the damned
Now my death near at my hand
Glory to my sword, my ancestors in pride
With lightnings I ignite fires in the night

Fear, hate, greed and lust
All around us dressed in blood
War, death, fire, screams
War and death and fire and screams

© by Ibn Ghalad

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