death of a patriot

myn love,
it's no right, what they did to ye
i fought, with impassable madness
to avenge yer slaying
blood and duodenum wis spilt, aye,
an' fer the days of my remainder, i be at war with the English

ye have gone from me now,
i canna describe the plague that rots at ma disposition
thay took our lands and hooses
and i stood
at the place where only remains the blood of ye

i swore
no longer shall thay circumscribe
our souls for the crust thay call King

gothic limbs shall no prevail

seeded navels of our own kind linger still
bring forth generic survival
of the generational kind
ma love, ye must not fret, for implanted is ane, not of his line, bot of mines

bot ma heart knows no falter
suppose this
let it be foresaid, that i, fought, no for na maner of revenge
bot in case thay took from mines, soul an' breath, from mines ayre, laid buried
in an ither

thay think thay have won
becos i bleed aneath thaim
a condemmed man
ma Claidheamh-mor cannae save me
bot, lass, now, gratefully, i lay down aside ye

Megan Green