THE SCOTIAD - damowords

The Betrayal Of BerwickDowning a tassie of red wine,Smirks Longshanks, "This 'Scotland' is mine!"& mounting armour'd Pisan steedMarch'd north to Berwick-on-the-Tweed,Where Scots stood on those thick walls stoutTaunting Longshanks with stone & shoutBut damn’d Corspatrick of DunbarWas waiting like the morning starReady his own race to betray,An adder hiding in the brae,Like some agent of Trojan fateHe slyly walked down Marygate& sic wanchancy traitor isHe rais’d the gate’s great portcullisThe Taking of BerwickToo late the sentry’s rais’d alarmsIn swarm’d the spike of Inglis armsBrave Longshanks, struck by battle's itch,Was first to cross the fortress ditchStorming the castle, all insideThen at the gallows crucified,Ten thousand slain in genocide& now ram-stam on the randanSwally wellies each InglismanWho blootered climb turrets & spiresTo rip & shred the blue SaltiresThen toss them down to waiting fires,Saint Andrew yield’s to George’s cross,How Scotland quakes at Berwick's loss!