The Scots

Tartans of old and new
Try to not dip into the dew,
To not weight down the lads,
Tis they could fall in the gaps.

Hem hawing to and fro
Hence before the morn to glow.
Hast not do they trek,
Hovering low so as to peck.

Every lad keeps watchful eye,
Eating in silence as they go by.
Eagerly waiting the ruin to come,
Each tries not to fall into slum.

Secretly they scatter abroad,
Staking their mark where they trod.
Suddenly the horn is blown.
Scots scatter this new morn.

Colliding against the enemy,
Coming to face their own destiny.
Coffin or conquerer can only one be.
Conquest is what Scots see.

Only in the end they will know,
Over whom shall win this horrid show.
Others watch and hesitate,
Only to find that it is too late.

Savoring the battles end,
Scots jump for joy as they ascend.
Staking their claim on a new land,
Some make new friends as they shake hands.