Give me crimson wool
For Glencoe’s betrayal
To mask the slaughter’s blood

The snow lands red and heavy.
The hand of the weaver,
Cold and still

I pray my plaiden web,
In strength and warmth,
Swear truth; prove courage

In Gordon pride and Stewart worth
With every knot: Honour
With every thrum: Wisdom

Wrapped in heavy tartan
I take a long last look
Never to forget the Campbell sins

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