The Kingdom Within

I dreamed I’d dug a grave for the last highland piper
In hills as snug as knuckles and smeared in rape
And beat a tattoo for that departed brother
With a drumstick hewn from Adam’s remaining rib

An albino scorpion crawled over Britain
Moving at a deathly pace
It’s sting was poised over London
As Scotland wiped the blood away from its face

Please, please, please
Tell all the flowers to blacken their tiny whitenesses
And tell all the starlings to dull their diaphanous plume
And tell the pallbearer that no fairer corpse will follow him
For he’s gone, yes, he’s gone boys
And left us this song, boys,
Of our impending doom

Sing, sing McCrimmond
Though your mouth is blood filled
Bow down Cumberland
Though your mouth is fed

And sing, sing Cameron
From your thrown of glory
Bow down Campbell
From your thrown of death

And ever since the reign
Ever since the reign
Of Scotland’s treacherous son

Sing sing McCrimmond
Though your mouth is blood filled
Bow down Cumberland
Though your mouth is fed

My father was a general at Culloden
(twitching in the mud)
My mother was a tart: legs splayed like a wish bone
(twitching in the mud)

Sing, sing McCrimmond
Though your mouth is blood filled
Bow down Cumberland
Though your mouth is fed

Now, we’ll never forget till the Inver runs red-o
(twitching in the mud)
With Stirling the deathbed and Scapa as the headstone
(twitching in the mud)