| The Last Warrior Piper | ||
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Of the bagpipes, nor knew of the Celtic war call. For the royal blood of Alpin pulsed quick in his throat, And the hunted MacGregors sang out the first note - And the wrongs of the ages rode hard on his back, As the cannons roared out Santa Anna's attack. Now, the warpipe lies silent, unmarked is his grave - Was the last tune he offered, to Scotland the Brave? As the fierce, cruel Deguello rang cold in his ears, Did he answer as fiercely, their taunts and their jeers? In the wreck of the massacre, little was found Of the Piper who fell - whence he came, whither boun d. Why he’d come to the Mission, by what bond was he tied? Who made note of his passing, who wept when he died? And the answers lie buried, the battlefield still, Yet their spirits walk with us, our hearts feel the thrill Of half-memories of conflict, dim shadows of war, And it stirs up the Celt in our blood evermore. For he died among heroes, like his fathers before, Yet, he lives in our memories, in legends and lore - And for us with the code of the Celt in our veins, One last deed of kinship and kindness remains - For so far from the Highlands of Scotland the Brave, Rests the Last Warrior Piper, unwept in his grave. So far from the Highlands, ’neath one common stone, Sleeps a royal MacGregor - forgotten, alone. |
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No one to lay heather, nor branch of pine tree, No one to lament - to pipe, Cha Till Mi Tuillidh - Cha Till Mi Tuillidh - He Returns Nevermore, This flower of the forest to Scotland's fair shore. But the blood is aye strong, and the memories run deep, And Clan Gregor have gathered at long last to weep For their kinsman who died with the last gallant men - Free the Child of the Mist, send him back home again. May his spirit rest light, may his soul go in peace, May his pipe fill the glen, may the kilt brush his knees, And the heather-blooms purple the bens and the braes, As we send back his spirit to live out its days. Yet, the call of the pipes will still haunt the high hills, And the blood of the Gael will still water the mills Of the minstrels and bards dwelling ’neath the Lone Star, Who dip with their pens from that vast reservoir. For the last of a legend lies deep in the heart Of the Highlands of Texas - forever a part Of the nation he fought for, the land he helped win, And MacGregor has won back his name once again. So, the Lone Star and Alpin are fast joined together - May their union aye flourish - despite them - forever! In memory of Piper John McGregor, Scotsman, who died defending The Alamo at San Antonio, Texas 6 March 1836. Presented to the Daughters of the Republic of Texas by Clan Gregor Society, American SouthWest Chapter 6 March 1992. |