Culloden's Field

In the year of seventeen forty six, on a cold April morn The fate of a nation was about to be born On Drumossie Moor, where the heather grows wild Jacobite dreams would soon be defiled

Culloden's field, where hope was slain The '45 rising crushed in pain Claymores clash with English steel As Scotland's fate the redcoats seal

Bonnie Prince Charlie, the Young Pretender Led Highland clans, their loyalties tender Against the Hanoverians, they made their stand For Stuart restoration across the land

Lord George Murray, with tactics so bold Faced Cumberland's army, disciplined and cold Exhausted and hungry, the Jacobites charge Through marshy ground, their numbers not large

The battle was brief, but oh so fierce Cannon fire did Highland lines pierce Claymores against muskets, an uneven fight Cumberland's vengeance, a terrible sight

No quarter given, the wounded were slain A butcher's work on this bloody terrain Prince Charlie fled, his cause in tatters Highland culture crushed, traditions in shatters

The aftermath harsh, clans torn apart Kilts and tartans banned, a blow to the heart Gaelic silenced, a way of life undone All for a battle that could not be won

Years have passed, but memories remain Of lives lost and a culture in pain Culloden's legacy, a scar on the land Where Jacobite hopes met their final stand

On Drumossie Moor, where ghosts still roam We remember the brave who never came home A pivotal moment in Scotland's long story Of rebellion, loss, and faded glory

Scottish drums and b bagpipes