I Am Scoti, I Am Picti, I Am Albany

The pipes, the pipes

are calling me to war.

The drones strike resonance

in my bones.

I feel my forefathers hands

in my own, gripping my hilt.

       I am the Sword.

The pipes, the pipes

are calling me home.

The drones remind me

of the loom.

I feel the wool in my hands;

Highland homespun pride.

       I am the Tartan.

The pipes, the pipes

are calling me to the plow.

The drones thrum resonance

in the stones,

as the cas chrom turns them up

Freeing granite from earth.

      I am the Bere.

The pipes, the pipes

are calling me to sing

The drones play harmony

in my heart;

I hear the bard and fili

Signing from Border to Highland.

       I am the Poeta.

The pipes, the pipes 

are calling me to woe.

The drones echo in my soul

singing of death.

I feel the passing of years

That brought winnowing of free Scotland.

       I am Albany.