The Fatal Sisters

5Glittering lances are the loom,

6Where the dusky warp we strain,

7Weaving many a soldier's doom,

8Orkney's woe and Randver's bane.

9See the grisly texture grow,

10('Tis of human entrails made!)

11And the weights that play below,

12Each a gasping warrior's head.

13Shafts for shuttles, dipped in gore,

14Shoot the trembling cords along.

15Sword, that once a monarch bore,

16Keep the tissue close and strong.

17Mista, black, terrific maid,

18Sangrida, and Hilda, see,

19Join the wayward work to aid;

20'Tis the woof of victory.

21Ere the ruddy sun be set,

22Pikes must shiver, javelins sing,

23Blade with clattering buckler meet,

24Hauberk crash, and helmet ring.

25(Weave the crimson web of war!)

26Let us go, and let us fly

27Where our friends the conflict share,

28Where they triumph, where they die.

29As the paths of fate we tread,

30Wading through the ensanguined field,

31Gondula and Geira, spread

32O'er the youthful king your shield.

33We the reins to slaughter give;

34Ours to kill, and ours to spare;

35Spite the dangers he shall live.

36(Weave the crimson web of war!)

37They whom once the desert beach

38Pent within its bleak domain,

39Soon their ample sway shall stretch

40O'er the plenty of the plain.

41Low the dauntless earl is laid,

42Gored with many a gaping wound;

43Fate demands a nobler head;

44Soon a king shall bite the ground.

45Long his loss shall Eirin weep

46Ne'er again his likeness see;

47Long her strains in sorrow steep,

48Strains of immortality!

49Horror covers all the heath;

50Clouds of carnage blot the sun.

51Sisters, weave the web of death;

52Sisters, cease, the work is done.

53Hail the task, and hail the hands!

54Songs of joy and triumph sing!

55Joy to the victorious bands

56Triumph to the younger king.

57Mortal, thou that hear'st the tale,

58Learn the tenor of our song.

59Scotland, through each winding vale

60Far and wide the notes prolong.

61Sisters, hence with spurs of speed;

62Each her thundering falchion wield;

63Each bestride her sable steed.

64Hurry, hurry to the field!