O where were ye, upon that night?
At home in prayer for the highland men?
By Brightblade’s side, in Dun Muir, to fight,
To free our isle, each hill and glen?

They say that Brightblade there was caught,
By Captain Hoch, most cruel Blackwing,
A vile and sorcerous onslaught,
As good men fell to his curses’ stings.

As vile his greed in the days thereafter
To take what little each widow had,
So Dun Muir wept, where once was laughter,
As hope died too, with those brave lads.

So drink ye a glass, for Dun Muir’s dead,
And those who yet live, and long to be free,
And spit ye a curse on Blackwing’s head,
And his men, the Adamant Hart.