The Guardian

I jiggle to the music, out front,

Extremely proud

My lineage is legend

I go back centuries, whilst carrying food for the fighting men

We ran over hill and glen to stop by a brook to eat, then on to meet the foe

Surrender was never a consideration

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Our fighting prowess goes back to times immortal

First with ‘Wallace and, then ‘Bruce' to win, for our impoverished land, freedom.

We never forget ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie' and Culloden, where we lost the 'Flowers of the forest.'

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I am the guardian of manhood, valuables and especially ‘jewels',

Oft' I am the ‘centre of attraction'

What do the ladies think lies deep within?

Does he or doesn't he?

When the band strikes up I'm off again to the skirl o' the pipes.

The thunder of the drums

Swinging proud to be a Celt

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An ode from a ‘Sporran'

Slainte!