The moon gleamed down on the dusty road
As he rode down to the glade
And at his side though his cloak did hide
There hung a shining blade
For he’d broken prison that very night
As he was to hang at dawn
And so he prayed for a moon o’re the glade
His flight to cast light on
In the heat of the battle at yestermorn
While the Scots were fighting hard
An English blow had struck his head
And he fell by an English sword
But while his foes believed him slain
He heard their whispered counsel
“We will ambush these Scots at dawn tomorrow
And bend them to our will”
And now a prisoner in their hands
With only he to warn
His men unconscious of their fate
That waited them in the morn
A hidden file, a swim in the moat
A free man stood he again
Then mounting his horse he made with all speed
To the rise beyond the glen
And riding, riding, riding now
With the light coming ever nigh
If he was not off before the dawn
They would raise the hue and cry
“Who goeth there?” the watchman cried
As he heard the horse on the fly
“Tis naught” his fellow guard replied
“But a young peasant riding by.”
So silent as the shadows road
The young knight on his way
As o’re the purple hills burst forth
The first list of the day
And far ahead in the distant land
What sight there met his gaze?
His noble armoured band of men
Gleamed in the morning rays
He spurred his horse to a gallop now
But what came up behind?
The English! T’was the ambush!
And he rode to the other side
He fought against the urge to live
And took his place at the head
And cried “look not for me tonight,
For I’ll be here on this battlefield dead.”
Then smiled the youthful knight
As he turned in bold array
“For freedom!” gave the cry
And with his life, he lead the way
