As the Mist Rises

(Wind sound, then a distant drum – fade in)

The dawn is grey on Culloden Moor

Where the heather drinks the blood of the poor

My claymore’s broken, my plaid is torn

But the name of my clan will never be worn

By a stranger’s hand, by a foreign crown

I’ll sleep tonight on this wet, cold ground

(Where the redcoats marched and the cannons roared)

(I curse no king – but I keep my sword)

As the mist rises from the glen

I will walk the old road again

Through the bracken and the fallen stone

Where the heart of Alba’s never alone

Let them build their walls of law and shame

The wind still whistles a freeborn name

And the river runs where the salmon leap

In the land my fathers died to keep

I left my lass by the Rowan tree

She wove a ribbon through my sword’s hilt for me

She said: “ Come back when the whin blooms gold”

But I’m forty years and a story old

Her grave is a stone that the moss has kissed

And the ribbon is dust in my iron fist

(But the whin still blooms on the brae each spring)

(And the thrush still sings the same old thing)

As the mist rises from the glen

I will walk the old road again

Through the bracken and the fallen stone

Where the heart of Alba’s never alone

Let them build their walls of law and shame

The wind still whistles a freeborn name

And the river runs where the salmon leap

In the land my fathers died to keep

(Spoken-sung, slow, with echo) “ They say the clans are dead and gone –

But every stone remembers a song.

You can burn the bothy and hang the man,

But you cannot drain the loch’s own plan.

(Fiddle plays a lament for 8 bars)

So let the mist take me where it will –

I’ll stand on the hill, and I’ll be still.

For the blood in the heather is not yet cold.

It waits. It waits. It is not old.”

As the mist rises from the glen

I will walk the old road again

I will walk the old road again

Through the bracken and the fallen stone

Through the bracken and the fallen stone

Where the heart of Alba’s never alone

Let them build their walls of law and shame

LET THEM BUILD THEIR WALLS OF LAW AND SHAME

THE WIND STILL WHISTLES A FREEBORN NAME

AND THE RIVER RUNS WHERE THE SALMON LEAP

IN THE LAND MY FATHERS DIED TO KEEP!

(Final held note – choir “ Alba… Alba…”)

(Whispered) “ As the mist rises…”

(Whispered) “ As the mist rises…”