Make your own free website on Tripod.com
The Fallen Tartan Stripe.
Written by: L@zarus


I looked into his empty lifeless eyes
Gazing into my own lethal and malignant demise.
Seeing my unwanted and bewildering end,
As I stare into the empty eyes of my fallen friend.

The war we fought was for no just cause.
It thrust his life into an abyssal pause.
I kneel by the side of my fallen friend.
I watched his life come to an bitter end.

Many lay lifeless on this horrid field.
So many fell, friend and foe alike.
The live take the fallens blade and shield.
Finding there loves hanging from a bloody spike.

I bent my head down next to my friend.
I felt a tear fall from my Celtic blue.
A feeling I have not felt and thought I would never feel again.
My last friend he was one of the proud and few.

I wept in sorrow and pain ridden morn.
Remembering the fore day.
When I to he, I did scorn.
Sorrow and pain I feel this dying day.

He departed this life with hate towards me.
I wish I could start anew again.
I would change all so blood be not to drench this glen.
So I may live another day with my last fallen friend.

As we played as child is were I would begin.
I would not tease or taunt him.
I would teach him the brushing arts.
Yes in the old day is were I would start.

As young lads we often fought,
Left one the both of us many of scare.
I would stop the fighting and let use be taught.
I take the fighting down to a playful spare.

Again as lads of young,
I would have liked to go fishing with him.
At the river at the bottom of the glen.
When I was mad at him, he I should not of shunned.

The time he needed me.
A shoulder for which he could lean.
When his father died from the tyranny.
I was there for him to wipe his tears clean

If I could I would have stopped.
The English tyranny that had his father cropped.
But as a young lad I could not have done.
But I would give my life if I could.

I would not revise one happy eve
The day his first child was born.
The look on his face priceless indeed.
A day of happiness free of bitter scorn.

A day I wish I could remake.
Was the day he and his wife.
Left to leave the English tyranny.
A sad day for both him and me.

He went to a town were a noblemen.
Saw his wife and took her to his den.
Killing her when his way was done.
He came to me with his head lowly hung.

He placed one hand upon my shoulder,
And began to weep as he told me,
His wife, my sisters life was over.
It was hard for both I and He.

He watched his first and last child,
Leave to live a life free from tyranny.
He was joyed for he did escape the wild.
With hopes teaching his son will see.

Those were painful days
I wish I could of remade.
When we both needed our friend.
And friendship is what we both gave.

If there was but one day,
That I could lead astray.
It would be the eve
When, conscripted was He.

This I did try and change.
I went to were he fought.
But too late was I.
So many had already begun to die.

I remember vividly for it was but a few hours pass.
I tore my way into the battle to save my friend.
I found him standing his ground, his small patch of grass.
I waded through the warring armies, so He I could defend.

Back to back like brothers we fought.
Like the ways our fore fathers taught.
Arrows cloaked the sun and down they began to hail.
Like ice cold rain it pierced both sides of this bloody wail.

He fell against my hind and to the ground.
I dropped and turn on one knee.
To see an arrow protruding from his leathery bound.
He broke it off and stood again to fight, mighty truly was he.
I heard him drop once more.
He fell to the bloody ground drench with gore.
A foe swung at his falling hide.
Steel against steel a brushed his sword aside.

He got to his feet clutching another arrow in his chest.
When an English tyrant did him deadly harms.
I parried him away I did my best.
And My friend fell into arms.

I held him close, as he slowly began to die.
It was a truly painful time for I.
The Tyrants killed my friend in a bloody cage.
Watching his eyes as began to depart sent me into a lethal rage.

I grasped my sword firm in hand.
Picked a mace from a fallen band.
Wailed a war cry like a banshee.
For they killed my kinsmen, They killed He.

I fought like a warrior mage.
Wild eyed burning effigy and rage.
Putting all noblemen into the cage.
In which my friend was put that sent me to a rage.

An hour went by and the battle was done.
I found my last friend, still alive was He.
He looked up at me and whispered to me.
Friend, My freedom this day was won.

His eyes lost there gleam.
And his body fell lax.
His soul arose like mist, like steam.
This war was over the price of a noblemen's tax.

Still I kneel beside my fallen friend.
Wishing his life would not have ended
I wish better for He, I could have defended.
And maybe his life would not have come to an end.

I take my dagger from it's sheath,
I cut a strip of his tartan to hang on my sword.
And another to hang on my heath.
I take his sword for his son, for me I take his board.

We both lived a life filled with pain and strife.
We made due and tried to lead a happy life.
Nevermore will we war over a petty gripe.
I wish no more to hang on my sword the fallen tartan stripe.

Unfortunately time he can not change.
But for his friend if he could his own life he would exchange.
He knows that his life alone must tread.
Alone with out friend, a life of utter dread

The moon rose high above,
As the mist began to roll in.
Flooding the war bitten glen.
Ironically over head flew a dove.

With the moon shining threw the fog.
Silhouetting the warrior and his fallen friend.
He gets up from the bloody bog.

The silhouette A bystander could see
The love he had for his friend.
As he said his good-bye to thee.
All can blatantly see that he wish's for all wars to end.

The scavengers that plowed for spoils of war.
Stopped and looked and saw a life long friendship end.
It choked all of there hearts and brought tears to there eyes.
For they could tell this mighty highlander just lost his only friend.