The Laird of Bonnie Doon

A team of eminent archaeologists
from the University of Vladivostok
digging away in Scotland (in order
to avoid Putin’s draft … no doubt)
have recently unearthed a cache of
documents and artifacts pertaining to
a certain eleventh century Scottish
Lord, Bruce de Redpath.
The inescapable implications, and
the inevitable conclusion to be
drawn from these ground breaking
archaeological discoveries, are truly
earth shattering as they irrefutably
confirm the coronation of this
Scottish nobleman as the undisputed
King of Anglo-Saxon England on
the 19th day of October, 1066.
Evidently, in the aftermath of King
Harold’s death at the Battle of Hastings,
the remaining English Lords huddled
away in London turned to a Scotsman
to fend off Duke William of Normandy
(a.k.a. “William the Bastard” to his
few friends, and “Stormin’ Norman”
to his many enemies).

The True Facts;

Bruce de Redpath was the hero
at the Battle of Stamford Bridge,
having slain King Harald Harada
of Norway. Thus putting to an
end centuries of Viking marauding.
Naturally, the English King Harold
took all the credit.

After his hurried coronation,
King Bruce I (the one & only),
knowing the Peers of the Realm
would soon betray him and
bend the knee to Duke William,
decided to leave the English
Lords to their fate …
and migrate to Australia.

So William the Conqueror was
crowned on Christmas day, 1066,
at Westminster Abbey. As a
departing yuletide gift to the
Norman Duke, King Bruce the First
left a papier-mâché crown for
William’s erroneous coronation,
having taken the real one with him.
A not so subtle reminder of the
feudal law of royal ascension;

‘Whilst the true anointed
Royal Liege Lord of the Realm
draweth the breath of life, and
beholdeth the crown and sceptre,
there can ne’er be another.’

A statute still in effect today!
Thus the bold display of the
crown above the Southern Cross
on both Victorian and Australian
Coat of Arms, representing the
legitimate claim of sovereignty by
the true heirs to the British throne.

The implications are profound.
Especially for Wills and Kate.
The well stream of Scottish
literature * has been dredged
and the truth flushed out, despite
the Norman attempts to erase all
record of the Redpath Coronation.
History is written by the victors, but
the Norman version of events has
proven to be a Bayeux tapestry of lies.

All relevant documentation has now
been referred to the Privy Council
for deliberation. The Council’s final
adjudication has been delayed due to
some trifling Brexit business, and
that pesky pandemic (the Council
being made up of very pale, very stale,
and very frail old men) but will soon
be forthcoming.

Charles and Camilla have been
advised to check the small print
on their work contracts, along
with the rest of the family
Saxe-Cobug-Gotha.

The Earl and Countess
of Strathearn may keep
their meaningless titles.
But with three wee toddlers,
they best learn how to earn.

As for Megan, the Ex-Princess
of Sussex, I wish her all the
best with her well timed Megxit.
Being a consumate actress she
is assured of much future success
in the U.S., if that suits the
soon to be former Duke of Sussex?

The late Mrs. Elizabeth Windsor did
the world a final favour and sent
Randy Andy to the Tower for some
hard labour. That not so charming
Prince Alarming, and his siblings,
are the pure pedigree produce from
centuries of inbreeding and nepotism.

The Scottish tradition of donning
paper crowns at the Christmas feast
is now seen as having it’s roots in
these recently rediscovered events.

According to native folklore, the
Bruce settled somewhere north
of Port Phillip Bay, declaring;
“This is the place for a distillery,
to distill some peace and prosperity.”
Which the Laird from Bonnie Doon
proceeded to do, giving rise to the
suitably apt title, The Lucky Country,
despite the Evil Empire striking back
and turning the place temporarily
into a prison camp. It would seem,
with the reign of William, the Anglais
acquired a taste for taking other
people’s tribal lands, by force.
Or has it ever been thus?

“Since the serpent in the garden
first played his hand with a finger
on the scales, all humanity has been
in the balance. So, you better watch
out! You had better think twice !!
And consider whether you have
been naughty … or nice?”

~ The Book of Picts

_____________________

* In a chauvinistic time
of barbaric bloodshed,
brutality, and misogyny,
(much like today) that
some (especially the dumb)
call the Age of Chivalry,
it befell a peace loving
Laird to defend his land,
his subjects, and family.

With the fast approaching
Stormin’ Norman gloom
the sassenach aristocrats
turned to a brave Laird
from Bonnie Doon.
The one and only
Sword-Bearer of Rakkenrune
the legendary Viking Slayer
and bestower of Roman doom
in the hands of the Clan
from Castle Bonnie Doon.
A weapon that could cleave
asunder any and many
an enemy shield. Given
unto the noble Sir Bruce
by the Lady of the Loch
to righteously wield
with a Kingdom at stake.
To fight for the good
… for goodness sake.
That be no crock.
That be the lassie
exotic and aquatic
of Loch Mullardoch.

So upon Laird Redpath’s
regal head was duly placed
the English Crown, by the
nobles all full of dread,
down in old London town.
The crown and sceptre
freely given.
Nay! Not purloined.
By the Bruce freely taken
for safe keeping.
For After all …
he was a Scotsman.
And with great regret
since William first sat
upon that throne
with a paper hat
the English succession
has been distinctly Frankish,
and hence … European.

Knowing the barons craven
would not now, nor ever,
stand firm and true,
with a hop and a skip
the Bruce did a flip
and shot straight through.
The Son of Gaelic Thunder
heading Down Under.
To the land
of the Never Never,
with a pouch full
of royal treasure,
went the Big Red
That flying kangaroo
. . . Noblesse Oblige.
‘Twas far nobler he fled,
in no particular hurry,
leaving the sassenachs
post-haste to taste
some Norman mercy.

Some say
that the true
British Monarch
took to the sky
like a royal butterfly.
The exodus
most gracious
of the righteous
Maximus Rex.
With his maiden fair,
soon to wed,
that Irish wildflower
of Dawson Valley,
his squire,
and vassals loyal,
all worldly goods
for to carry,
the Laird Royal
bid farewell
to Bonnie Doon castle.
There no longer to tarry.
And with nought of a care
to be found anywhere
for the good order
of the British Empire.
Being the mother
… of all feudal hastle.

William the Norman
found despairing
to be wearing
a crown made of paper for
his Christmas coronation.
Appearing as out of
some festive bon bon
upon the Frenchman’s head
a most pretty decoration.
He ordered his soldiers
to search all around
for that missing crown.
In a fit of frustration
the ‘Gangsta of Hastings’
then bade them
to burn London down.
Down to the ground.
Down to it’s foundation.

And yet another
message on parchment
from the Knight Caledonian
to the poor folk of London,
stamped with the Great Seal,
and so signed …
~ The Real Royal Deal.
Thus disregarding
the Duke Norman’s claim
with an overture declaring;
“Tell William to take aim
against a sea of troubles
if the English he wish to
be ruling. Likewise, he be
dreaming if that Frenchie
believeth, with all the
slings and arrows of his
outrageous fortune, he might
best a true Scotsman.
A proud Celt from the Clan
for whom Hadrian built a
wall in futility to ban.
Your King from the Castle,
not some Norman rascal, the
Laird from Castle Bonnie Doon.”

So dear reader,
all that is left to say,
apart from a hearty
Scots Wha Hae, is …
be sure of whom you crown
in your heart of hearts
on this Christmas day.

Thus endeth the quotation.

* from ‘The Laird of Bonnie Doon’
~ by Sir Walter Scotch

The Laird of whom wandering
minstrel still sing . . .

“Steal a little
and they throw you in jail.
Steal a lot
and they make you king.
So King Bruce stole the lot
to fit right royally in.”

~ The Caledonian Bard, Bob Mac Dylan

Irroofutable Evidence;
‘The Crest Victorious’
Victoria’s Coat of Arms,
starring ‘Big Red’, the
original Flying Kangaroo.
Referred to in medieval
Norman writings as
“That Thieving Roo”.

Each year, on the 19th day
of October, a lone piper
plays at Castle Bonnie Doon
the absent Laird & King
… to always remember,
and later that evening
a highland fling
… being flung.

The Lady of Loch Mullardoch.
According to legend
Rakkenrune
the much sought after
weapon of mass destruction
was returned to the Lady via
Lake Eildon. In safe keeping
for some future generation.

Ancient Druidic prophesies
foretell the return to
Castle Bonnie Doon
of the legendary Rakkenrune,
brother sword to Caliburn;

“Then, once again,
a true blue Celt
will take back
his rightful seat
upon Arthur’s throne.
The place where the
Stones of Destiny are
destined to ever remain,
Pictavia’s Royal Stones
by the lowlanders
once stolen.
Like the toss of a caber
and a highland fling
the usurpers out thrown.
From Caledonia to Hibernia,
to Avalon and back again.
Indeed, the British Isles entire
… a right royal celebration!”

~ The Book of Picts
(Revised Edition)

The ancient ‘Book of
Celtic Prognostications’
indicate these events will
herald in a time for severing
all bondages that bind
Scotland to England, and
hence, England to Normandy,
along with it’s union
of surrounding kingdoms
and fiefdoms. Then poor
England’s only hope of
economic salvation would
be by turning back to God,
and to the once jilted
Commonwealth of Nations
… and not a wee moment
too soon according to
ancient Druidic writings.

The Valley Red Path
as viewed from Scott’s Lookout
after a few wee drams
somewhere south of Brigadoon.
‘Tis said that the ‘Red’
is for the blood of the foreign
invaders over the ages
… shed in utter failure.

The three boar heads
plastered upon the shield
of the Redpath Coat of Arms
represent the Romans, Vikings,
and of course, the Sassenachs.
Often referred to in Scottish
literature as the
“Three Little Pigs” who,
all in turn, failed to blow
the Celtic Wolf’s house down.
Typically, english historians
later completely turned the
whole story around.

The ever after happy ending

All the way from Australia …

… the diaspora returneth

. . . to the old homestead.
Castle Bonnie Doon seems to be lost in
the mist of time. Much like Brigadoon.

And to where the cows
are shaggy and horny

. . . Very!

The Most Rightful Earl of Carrick
David the Bruce, Heir Apparent 👑

The kids are looking forward
to their new accommodation

~ David Bruce Redpath © 2017-2023

First published
December 22, 2017
on WordPress

Photography;
David & Linda Redpath © 2018~2023

Earl of Carrick portrait
courtesy of Multiple Michael
https://multiplemichael.wordpress.com/2022/09/08/bye-mom-i-love-you/
https://www.thevintagenews.com/2022/09/19/nostradamus-king-charles/