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My Scottish Rose ©

Mike Barclay
Münster, Germany
2004

My heart falls in a deep dream
I can feel the wings of freedom
For my Country
In a time of eternity
Every night
I watch the sweet moonlight
Over the black mountains
In my heart my Scottish Rose
Surrounded in a magical wish
Birds in Trees singing me a song
From the blooming heather
And uncounted Glens
I close my eyes
Tears of golden
In my hand born of longings
Delicate like my Scottish Rose
And in my heart I can hear
The whispering of ancient
Like old dreams
Born in colours of the Tartans
Carried by the Ghosts
Of the Battlefields
I walk the empty fields
Near the Glen of hopes
I can hear the voice
Deep inside my lonely heart
Of my proud Scottish Rose
And I'll kneel
At the forgotten Altar
Near the ancient battlegrounds
Of deep lifeblood of the proud Scottish Hero's
And I knew and feel
My Country will be free someday
And my Scottish Rose
Will bloom for us
Beauty like never before


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