From East to West the sentinels looked out towards the North—
"Amboglanna has sent for aid,
For the heather is bright with targe and blade
Away to the silvery Forth."
When the Scottish host looked down and scorned to charge the foe
That filed around the fatal hill and crossed the stream below,
When the flowers of the forest fell and withered in the fight—
"Shoulder to shoulder around the King,
Hear the Claymore whistle and sing