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Standing proud upon a hill
Golden stone dancing with the sun
Standing high
Majestically watching over the lands below
The placid river far below,
A sheet of glass reflecting all above
Long and winding, deep and wide
Protected and fed the loyal servants
The glorious hills across the valley
Bathed in colour, greens, browns, yellow, and grey
Steeped in history, tales of hero's
Once a time a pathway of news
As fire burnt high on their tops,
Heralding the demise, rise, birth and death of our Monarchy
In the distance, a more regal caste now stands
Not forgotten, not neglected
Standing proud upon its hill top seat,
Surveying its kingdom
Across the Highland Gate, to the volcano of old
There stands a tall sign of Scotland
The tower to remember a man so brave
The home of a sword so long, where tales are told
Last but not least, the village so near
Toll booth, and Stone, and Knights in the Cemetery
A village on the hill
Loyal to its Tower
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