GREY JACOBITES

AI generated music. Not serious, only for fun. They said the war was finished north That Scotland bowed or disappeared But ghosts still walked the mountain roads And men remembered why they feared No colours left, no regiment Just scattered names and broken lines Old soldiers turning back again To older wars between the pines They came from units torn apart From B.C.F. and stolen ranks From fishing towns and council flats With rifles pulled from hidden banks No kings to call, no nobles left No gold to buy the hills away Just stories passed from breath to breath Of losing — and returning anyway We are the Grey Jacobites Not born, but made in fire and need History turning in the night As old rebellions learn to breathe They burned the crown, they burned the land Still we rise where legends lie Alba gu bràth, we stand And we don’t ask the reason why Helicopters stolen south Engines screaming through the glen Weapons taken mouth to mouth And passed between the clans again No uniforms, no marching bands Just small patrols and winter ground Hit and vanish from their hands Before the heavier guns come round The myths they learned as children’s tales Of uprisings and bitter ends Now written fresh in tracer trails By daughters, brothers, lovers, friends They called it treason from the south They called it madness, called it wrong But every strike just fed the mouth Of something buried far too long We are the Grey Jacobites Not born, but made in fire and need History turning in the night As old rebellions learn to breathe They burned the crown, they burned the land Still we rise where legends lie Alba gu bràth, we stand And we don’t ask the reason why Rosyth burned in silent light Edinburgh beneath the flame Small suns falling through the night And nothing ever looked the same They thought the fire would end the fight That fear would break what still remained But grief became a battle cry And Scotland stood again, unchained No victory, no clean escape Just names carved into stone and sky The Greys kept moving through the smoke Another loss that would not die We are the Grey Jacobites Not born, but made in fire and need History turning in the night As old rebellions learn to breathe They burned the crown, they burned the land Still we rise where legends lie Alba gu bràth, we stand And we don’t ask the reason why From hill to hill the story runs Defeat is never where it ends The war moves south, the wall goes up But this is where the turning bends