A poem celebrating the festival of August 2007.

Iain Ruaidh

Mists swirling round,
Shroud us in time an space.
Transport us back to times long ago.
Though hundreds of years have past,
your names still spoken, your songs sung,
the bard of Cul Lodair, Charlie’s general.
Fer as in yer own words, ‘The Lord’s my Targe’,
you were protected from harm, kept safe, in support of the Prince.

Many died on Cul Lodair’s cold moor,
an in memory of the moment,
Honour of the Prince,
Your banner, musket ridden an tattered,
was tae be carried to the top of blue mountain,
to fly in the winds of time,
its green streaking the sky’s blue,
Flashing defiant and strong.

Today, fer the first time in two hundred and fifty years,
we carried your new banner, proud and strong,
Up Cairngorm’s misty slopes,
To fly in the Highland breeze once more,
In your memory, in your Honour,
A new generation will never forget,
The green once again flashes,
defiant on the breeze.

Iain Ruaidh, red haired John,
you were Prince Charles’ general,
A poet fer the ordinary man.
You sang fer the blindfolded Campbell,
He could not turn you in,
But if his eyes were to meet yours,
the fate of death,
would have been your pay.

You roamed the hills, hid in caves an moors,
Composed songs an poems fine,
an before you left our golden shores,
Your banner you gave in trust,
till the Prince should come once more.
Today your banner flew like the eagle,
high on Cairngorms top,
Defiant in a new world, A link with our past.

Michelle.