The High Mountaineer

A call to the borders, Highlanders, come down,
With your pitched heads of hair, so curly and brown.
With your woolen caps and your hunted game come,
To the grand old summons of horn and drum!

Come down with your ax; let great wolf and fox
Howl to the shadow of age-old rocks.
Let your hens be secure from bear and from mutt,
and enjoy some game for your bulging, fat gut!

And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!
And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!

On the North came the Gwerins, our land to police,
All armed for a battle, while canting for peace.
On the south came the Stracies', the blood-coated band,
To hang up our leaders and swipe up our land!

Come all to the rescue, with heroic soft touch,
Say nay to the legions from Iziq and such!
They claim overlordship, the pitiful knaves,
The only tribute we pay shall be dirt for their graves!

And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!
And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!

We owe no allegiance, we bow to no throne,
Our ruler is law, and the law is our own.
Our leaders are among us, with wheat at the mill,
Yet handle the sword, and the flail, and the quill!

Hurrah for Haklan! For the land that we till
Must have sons to defend every valley and hill.
Our vow is recorded, our banner unfurled,
For the men of great Haklan defy all the world!

And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!
And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!
And cheer, cheer, the High Mountaineer!