Artwork By Howard David Johnson

Ode to the Lairds of

Argyle

James the 6th bore Scotland's scepter,
The Lairds of Argyle ruled themselves;
For the Eagle soars alone,
And 'ere does he prevail

Twas winter,
In the Year of Our Lord 1603
The cold came,
Blood red cloaked that year;
Evil stepped forth center,
With Him marched cruel tears

Wretched, cruel the fate
That seized Fair Luss that season
For through her noble gates
Rode Gregor with his legions

Within The Glen of Sorrows
Valiant men fell slaughtered,
‘Neath ax, and bow, and sword
No mercy there was bartered

For Alistair, of Glenstrae
Clan McGregor's lawless Chief,
Deserved of Sword and Fire
Naught but murderous thief,
Assailed the realm once more
To grip the land in grief,
To slay, the Noble Laird of Luss

There with two divisions
Came Alistair in rage
A cutthroat fiendish mission
A jackal loosed from cage

Four hundred thanes he trust
Stole with him there for killing
Stained they the soil of Luss
Her noble blood there spilling

Black John within their ranks
Alistair's cruel darkened brother
There hidden on the banks
To crush the Laird from cover

A division loomed ahead
Another stalked behind
And trapped between the twain
Rode, Laird, and Kin, and Kind

Their women walked among them
Their babes upon their breast
Three hundred fifty valiant
The Host, Fair Luss's Crest

Strong clamor of the Sword
Rang true the dirge of Death
Dancing 'neath the sunlight
‘Til mustered final breath

Ore half their number fell
Slaughtered on the field
Ambushed by their neighbor
Crushed 'neath kindred's shield

His horse slain there beneath him
The Laird of Luss did fall
The mighty foe of Gregor
Arose, still standing tall

The prisoner's found no mercy
Once snared in twisted fate
For wicked were their captors
And evil was their trait

To each one there came murder
Sent by Hell's cruel wraith
Slaughtered there as captives
Adorned in Honor's faith

Justice seized her moment
And strolled midst mighty thanes
The archer bold MacClintock
Strung bow and chose his aim;

And there by his true hand,
Black John was rightly slain

The Glen cleared then of battle
Alas! The carnage there!
The bloodbath claimed as chattel,
The Host of Luss, The Fair

The widows shroud their spears
In bloodied rags of loved ones fallen,
And mounted on white stallions
To Crown came vengeance callin’

“Hear our words this day,
We'll have our men avenged!
Behold their garments bloodied:
Grant to us revenge!”

The Lairds of Argyle swore their oath
And pledged their righteous names
To crush Clan Gregor's throat
With mighty Sword and Flames

By King were they commissioned
With rote of Fire and Sword
To vanquish was their mission
And mighty was their hoard

A Widow's tears inspire
Fair Justice lent Her cause
Before the Sword and Fire
McGregor fled Her laws

The gallows loomed at last
For Chiefs of Clan McGregor
Who preyed on whom they would
Both mighty, and the beggar

And there before the folk
The mighty Chieftains swung
A lesson on a rope
For fiends were that day hung

James the 6th bore Scotland’s scepter;
The Lairds of Argyle ruled themselves,
For the Eagle soars alone,
And 'ere does he prevail

Many were his nestlings
Slain there, at Glen of Sorrows
But ere lives on their memory,
To soar through all tomorrows

Author: Kathleen MacLintock

~AKA: Maid of Iron~

©10/21/05

 

Main Graphic Provided By: Howard David Johnson

Web Design By KimmyJean