Gur duilich leam mar tha mi 'S mo chridhe 'n sàs aig bròn Bhon an uair a dh'fhàg mi Beanntan àrd a' cheò Gleanntannan a'mhànrain Nan loch, nam bàgh 's nan sròm 'S an eala bhàn tha tàmh ann Gach latha air 'm bheil mi 'n tòir. A Mhagaidh na bi tùrsach A rùin, ged gheibhinn bàs- Cò am fear am measg an t-sluaigh A mhaireas buan gu bràth? Chan eil sinn uile ach air chuairt Mar dhìthein buaile fàs Bheir siantannan na blianna sios 'S nach tog a' ghrian an àird. Tha 'n talamh leir mun cuairt dhìom 'Na mheallan suas 's na neòil; Aig na 'shells a' bualadh - Cha leir dhomh bhuam le ceò: Gun chlaisneachd aig mo chluasan Le fuaim a' ghunna mhòir; Ach ged tha 'n uair seo cruaidh orm Tha mo smuaintean air NicLeòid. Air m' uilinn anns na truinnsichean Tha m' inntinn ort, a ghràidh; Nam chadal bidh mi a' bruadar ort Cha dualach dhomh bhith slàn; Tha m' aigne air a lionadh Le cianalas cho làn 'S a'ghruag a dh'fhàs cho ruadh orm A nis air thuar bhith bàn. Ach ma thig an t-àm Is anns an Fhraing gu faigh mi bàs 'S san uaigh gun tèid mo shìneadh Far eil na mìltean chàch, Mo bheannachd leis a' ghruagaich, A' chaileag uasal bhbànn - Gach là a dh'fhalbh gun uallach dhi, Gun nàire gruaidh na dhàil. Oidhche mhath leat fhèin, a rùin Nad leabaidh chùbhraidh bhlàth; Cadal sàmhach air a chùl Do dhùsgadh sunndach slàn. Tha mise 'n seo 's an truinnsidh fhuar 'S nam chluasan fuaim bhàis Gun duil ri faighinn às le buaidh - Tha 'n cuan cho buan ri shnàmh.

Sad I consider my condition With my heart engaged with sorrow From the very time that I left The high bens of the mist The little glens of dalliance Of the lochs, the bays and the forelands And the white swan dwelling there Whom I daily pursue. O Maggie, don't be sad Love, if I should die - Who among men Endures eternally? We are all only on a journey Like flowers in the deserted cattle fold That the year's wind and rain will bring down And that the sun cannot raise. All the ground around me Is like hail in the heavens; With the shells exploding - I am blinded by smoke: My ears are deafened By the roar of the cannon; But despite the savagery of the moment My thoughts are on the girl called MacLeod. Crouched in the trenches My mind is fixed on you, love; In sleep I dream of you I am not fated to survive; My spirit is filled With a surfeit of longing And my hair once so auburn Is now almost white. But if it should happen That I am killed in France And laid in the grave As thousands are already, My blessings go with the maiden, So noble and fair. May her every day be free of care, And her life a source of pride. Goodnight to you, love In your warm, sweet-smelling bed; May you have peaceful sleep and afterwards May you waken healthy and in good spirits. I am here in the cold trench With the clamour of death in my ears With no hope of returning victorious- The ocean is too wide to swim.

The best thing - in Shadow's opinion, perhaps the only good thing - about being in prison was a feeling of relief. The feeling that he'd plunged as low as he could plunge and he'd hit bottom. He didn't worry that the man was going to get him, because the man had got him. He was no longer scared of what tomorrow might bring, because yesterday had brought it.

O Flower of Scotland,
When will we see your like again
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen.
And stood against him,
Proud Edward's army,
And sent him homeward
To think again.

The hills are bare now,
And autumn leaves lie thick and still
O'er land that is lost now,
Which those so dearly held
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again.

Those days are past now
And in the past they must remain
But we can still rise now
And be the nation again!
That stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again.

O Flower of Scotland,
When will we see your like again
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen.
And stood against him,
Proud Edward's army,
And sent him homeward
To think again.

Men of Harlech stop your dreaming
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
See their warrior pennants streaming
To this battlefield

Men of Harlech stand ye steady
It cannot be ever said ye
For the battle were not ready
Welshmen never yield

From the hills rebounding
Let this song be sounding
Summon all at Cambria's call
The mighty force surrounding

Men of Harlech on to glory
This will ever be your story
Keep these burning words before ye
Welshmen will not yield