Wildmen of the North

‘Neath an arid, greying sky,

Where the hills with heather lie,

North of warm and sunny lands

Flourishing ‘neath gard’ners’ hands;


Where the stag and boar roam free

Next to icy mountain stream,

And the copse of gorse and fir

Hide the birds that in them stir;


Wild men there traverse the land,

Strong of back and firm of hand;

Snowfall, wind, or weather dark,

Turns them not from winding march.


Guard they still the lands beyond

Ancient bounds and mighty wall;

None have tamed their fiery hearts,

Burning long with freedom sought.

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