Lament for Culloden
Robert Burns, 1786

The lovely lass o' Inverness,
     Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
     For e'en and morn she cries, Alas!
     And aye the saut tear blink's her ee:
     Drumossie moor--Drumossie day--
     A waefu' day it was to me!
     For there I lost my father dear,
     My father dear, and brethren three.

     Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
     Their graves are growing green to see:
     And by them lies the dearest lad
     That ever blest a woman's ee!
     Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
     A bluidy man I trow thou be;
     For mony a heart thou hast made sair
     That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee.