The Laird of Bonnie Doon

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A team of Scottish archaeologist have
unearthed some ground breaking, in
fact, earth shattering documentary
evidence regarding a certain eleventh century Lord, Bruce de Redpath. These
irrefutable archaeological discoveries
confirm that this Scottish nobleman
was crowned King of Anglo-Saxon
England on the 19th of October, 1066. In the aftermath of King Harold’s
demise 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 I left a
papier-mΓ’chΓ© crown, to be used
at 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, 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 current Earl, and Countess,
of Strathearn may keep the titles.
But with three wee toddlers,
they best learn how to earn.
As for the soon to be Ex-Duchess
of Sussex, I wish her all the best.
Being an actress, she is sure to be
a big success, if that suits the
soon to be former Duke of Sussex?

Mrs. Elizabeth Windsor could do
the world a final favour, and send
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 Doom
proceeded to do. Hence that most
suitable 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 in the
balance. So, you had 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
oncoming Norman gloom
the sassenach aristocrats
turned to a brave Laird
from Bonnie Doon.
The one and only legendary
Sword-Bearer of Rakkenrune
… the Viking King 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 Franish.
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.

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

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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 bard, Robert Mac Dylan

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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”.

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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

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… being flung.

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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.

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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 be.
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 Druid tradition.

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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.

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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.

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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 kids are looking forward
to the new accommodation 😎

David Bruce Redpath Β© 2017-19

First published
December 22, 2017
on WordPress

Photography;
David & Linda Redpath Β© 2018

110 thoughts on “The Laird of Bonnie Doon”

  1. My laird Redpath: so good to know more about your history and see your coat of arms. I especially appreciated the photo of horny cows, as well as of you returning to motherland to claim what’s yours. Remember us when you come into your kingdom and don’t pretend you don’t know us, or we’ll happily call you David the Red Bastard and tell everyone we’ve been WP friends. I want a title, a castle and some peasants to work for me.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Fair Basilike, I shall forge an
      Anglo – Greco alliance forthwith.
      All those disgruntled, with the
      mean spirited antics of those
      Frankish tyrants of Brussels,
      shall find respite at the round
      table of New Camelot.
      (I have set aside Sterling
      Castle, on the banks of Loch
      Ness, just for you Basilike.
      With the title, Countess of
      Moreroar Ness. But the castle is
      in need of repair, and you’ll
      have to tell those pesky tourists
      to push off.)

      Liked by 1 person

    1. What … Me biased! From my
      Castle in the Highlands, I have
      an uninterrupted 360 degree
      world view. Just like Queen
      Victoria had from her perch
      at Balmoral Castle, after all
      the unsightly peasants were
      moved off their land.
      She couldn’t stand the sight
      of hard working farmers,
      spoiling her view, apparently.
      Perhaps it should’ve been
      named ‘Immoral Castle’?
      Thanks Punam … Glad you
      approve of my correction,
      with vengeance, of history.

      Liked by 2 people

    1. Thanks a bunch, Chuck.
      Not many people know that
      the Viking, Eric the Red, made
      regular antipodean voyages,
      trading in eucalyptus oil, and
      flat pack furniture.
      Being a distant cousin of
      Sir Bruce de Redpath (the Celts,
      Picts, and Vikings all got on
      famously in Caledonia, as
      now verified by Ancestry.com).
      Eric the Red was most obliging
      in transporting the Bruce, and
      all his household, to the Great
      South Land.

      Like

  2. I confess I return to your poems quite often. There’s always something new in every read. This one is amazing. (They all are.) I prefer this alternate historical version of events. Can’t wait until we can go sideways in time to be witnesses a la Timeline and prove you were absolutely right. Plus, I really love your photo art. I’m trying to get better at this myself. β™₯.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks for reading, Niki.
      Your comments greatly appreciated.
      As they say, truth can be rearranged to be
      stranger than fiction. Just been offered a
      a compromise settlement deal by the family
      Windsor lawyers. They get to keep the Isle
      of Wight, whilst I get Buckingham Palace,
      and all the rest. Might have to think about it.
      Strictly confidential at the moment, so don’t
      tell anyone.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, unfortunately old Lizzie, she’s hanging
        on for grim death. And nobody wants Chuck
        to take over. I’ve suggested putting it to a
        plebiscite, and let the plebs decide. But after
        the Brexit shock, the illegitimate Nepotist don’t want to take the risk.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Repeatedly blowing minds throughout WP history, David. Smiley bemused and wildly amused and somewhat awed face, with a dash of passion for fashion and love for yet more adorable family photos thrown in. Also wowed by the genius of scenius; it’s a swordy sandwich in the wilds of Cameloon. What am I muttering about, must be the waning gibbous moon.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s the desired effect of such
      long term subjection to alternative
      facts, as practised by the White House
      these days. Thanks for taking the
      risk, and immersing yourself in my
      Caledonian treatise, Nadine πŸ™
      I will certainly remember your
      kindness when I come into my
      rightful Kingdom 🌹😎

      Liked by 1 person

    1. My first inkling, Charles, was when
      my older siblings kept referring to me
      as a right royal pain in the arse πŸ€”
      And apparently Australia was
      discovered, by the Vikings, much
      earlier than previously realised
      (and by the aborigines earlier again).
      It was Eric the Red who transported
      the Redpath clan to the land down
      under, being a distant relative β›΅

      Liked by 2 people

    1. Yes indeed, Resa.
      Thanks to Boris and his Brexit, the
      spirit of Caledonian independence
      is awakening, after centuries of docile
      subservient slumber. William Wallace
      will be dancing a jig in Avalon 🏴󠁧󠁒󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿
      It’s more about freedom from the
      British economic class system, than
      chauvinistic nationalism 😎

      Liked by 1 person

      1. The history of nations leaves a lot to be desired.
        Can time be turned back? I think not, but I believe we can go forward anew.
        As a Canadian, I am beyond humiliated about how we have treated our First Nations’ population.
        Yes, my forefathers were enslaved financially, politically and religiously (2 meanings here) by the Monarchies of France and Britain.
        They endured incredible hardships to escape their persecutions. Yet, my forefathers stole their new world, their new life, mercilessly from Canada’s natives.
        We have some progress in amending for the future.
        Still, it’s a semi-stagnant disgrace we find ourselves in, and apparently financially unable to rectify immediately.
        Pathetic comes to mind.
        I remain yours, humiliated.
        Thank you for your evocative post.

        Liked by 1 person

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