The bards sing her songs and write her verse, for neverending is her heart's purse, our lady scot who shines unend and forevermore her love we send.
Lady Margaret
Scottish winds blow hard & brisk,
She knew the cost; she took the risk.
Her love of country did not waver,
Her life was full of Scottish flavor.
She lent her hand to all who asked,
Those lucky indeed in her friendship basked.
Her love greets her with steed and lance,
While loud drums beat he'll watch her dance.
Though joy for now is pricked with pain,
Our own drums soon will beat again.
We will miss you.
Izza Arnat al Rahman
Lady
Scottish! Not English, the first words spoken between us
Everything looked a little different that day
Faces, names came from everywhere in a blur, in a rush
Drawn back. To the Scott. The lady, what was her name?
Seasons came and left and a friendship grew
In time I learned of her past, her love, and her passion for dance
Her family became my family, but this was before anybody really knew
Cancer attacked my lady, fight hard she did, that tough Scottish lass
But not all strong willed fighters come out so well
Despite all of the love and prayer and pleadings for one more day, to enjoy you, your smile…
It was on a Wednesday that our Lady Margret fell.
She was one of a kind, a true lady with no rival.
You took a part of me with you when you passed
Until we meet again, your memory will last.
[
oldstickbow]
Gentle Scottish Rose
There are none such as her, this lady of ours
a heart so wild who's dance send flowers
swaying softly against her soothing touch
to say so little, yet mean so much
I ne'er knew another heart like hers
nor inspired more to add her verse
to the spire of memory we build on high
to love and cherish her softest sigh
no words befall this broken bard
that could express her life so hard
she fought harder than any man
and gave equal loving guiding hand
her eyes cast love over all our hearts
and cast it still though our ways would part
rest well, my gentle scottish rose
your gift to us grants all loving repose.
Bastion
Verse exerpts from 'Ode' by Edward Wordsworth Longfellow asked to be added by Mrs. Betty
The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair; 15
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
Stumble!