David Burt - An Anatomy of Hallucination

Poem


	THE WEEPING GLEN
	The Campbells marched to the beat o' a traitorous drum When they told the trusting MacDonalds that they would come And help to unite the scattered Highland clans When in truth the Campbells had in mind some other plans. For they had taken sil'er from Englishmen To betray the bedraggled Scots in a mountain Glen Under the guise of a willing and friendly clan They smote the MacDonald highlanders to a man.
	I heard the feet that should nay have come March to the beat of a different drum, March on through the sleeping Glen With bloodstained hands marched Campbell's men. I lay and watched in a cold Glencoe Amidst purple heather and bloodstained snow. I lay and watched as the Claymores fell Dispatching the MacDonalds to an English Hell.
	I heard the feet that should not have come March away to the fife and drum. They'd been welcomed around the MacDonald fire Not knowing that night what would transpire. When those fires died and the Glencoe night Cloaked their treacherous deeds, in feint half light, The Campbells rose and slew their sleeping hosts, Now Glencoe echos with the sound of MacDonald ghosts.
	The Weeping Glen (Audio)