In the year twelve ninety-seven, by the River Forth’s wide side, The English banners gathered, with their armored knights of pride. Their king had claimed a kingdom, said Scotland would obey, But rebels rose for freedom and refused to fade away. Verse 2 From the hills came Wallace marching, with Moray by his side, A smaller band of fighters, but their hearts were full of pride. They waited by the crossing where the narrow bridge did lie, Watching English soldiers slowly moving two by two nearby. Chorus Hold the line at Stirling Bridge, let the river hear the cry, Steel and spear and freedom’s flame beneath the Scottish sky. When the enemy comes crossing, that’s the moment we engage— Turn the bridge into a legend, turn the battle into rage. Verse 3 When the English ranks had crowded halfway to the other side, The Scots came down like thunder from the hillside where they’d hide. Knights sank in the marshland, armor dragging them below, Spears and blades surrounded them wherever they would go. Verse 4 The bridge collapsed in chaos, flames and panic filled the air, Thousands fell to river, steel, and mud in grim despair. The English fled in ruin as the Scots claimed victory, And Wallace rose to guardian of a land that would be free. Final Chorus Sing the tale of Stirling Bridge, where the tide of war was turned, Where the fires of Scottish freedom fiercely blazed and burned. Though Moray fell from battle wounds, the legend still remains— A narrow bridge, a daring stand, and freedom in their veins.
