THE TARTAN ARMY

It is a poem

                              THE TARTAN ARMY

And I bear a mortar

Upon my shoulders

A load meant for two

Didn’t it break my back?

Fervent soldier in agony



And I wore the tartan mark

Weren’t we distinguished?

The Tartan army

That bore no grudge but fight

Didn’t we run around in circles?

Through the burrows

Through the furrows

Like water poured out

It was a murky skirmish

That tore serenity out of us



In a loud voice

We billow out death

Death to the King and his equestrians