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(Alistair McDonald)

Em D C Bm
cho: Cold the winds on the moors blow
Em D C Bm
Warm, the enemy's fire glows
G A C Em
Black the harvest of Culloden
C Bm C Em
Pain, and fear, and death grow.

Em D C G
'Twas love of our prince drove us on to Drummossy
Em Bm C
But in scarcely the time that it takes me to tell
Em D C G
The flower of our country lay scorched by an army
Em Bm C
As ruthless and red as the embers of hell.


Red Campbell, the false, did the work of the English
McDonald in anger did no work at all
With musket and cannon 'gainst honour and courage
The invader's men stood while our clansmen did fall.


Now mothers and children are left to their weeping
With only the memory of father and son
Turned out of their homes to make shelter for strangers
The blackest of hours on this land has begun.


@Scottish @battle @death
filename[ CULLHVST

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Culloden's Harvest


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