The Beast o Kindrochit
by: Wheeler, Les
Back in the days o Malcolm
Aside bonnie Braemar toon
In Kindrochit Castle bade a beast
Protected by the croon.
For King Malcolm ained Kindrochit
For huntin wi his men
An Tad Losgan wis the fearsome beast
That bade there in its den.
The Constable o the castle
Kent the beast amused the King
He made the local fowk provide
The maet tae feed the thing.
Tae feed the fearsome Tad Losgan
Fowk's kye wir reived awa;
Fowk couldna stop the Constable
For the King's man ruled them aa.
Sandy McLeod wis a local loon
An a bowman o some fame:
He hid a wife an a bairnie sma
An Glen Slugan wis their hame.
They bade there wi his mither,
A width wumman forbye,
A pucklie grun tae growe some corn
An twa-three shargarred kye.
The Constable decided
That the beast's neist feed wis nigh.
Young Sandy's Mither wis the een
Tae loss een o her kye.
Noo Sandy kent that ae coo less
Wid end his Mither's life:
He kent he'd hae tae act tae save
His mither, bairn an wife.
In his little cottar hoosie
He made speeshul arras three,
The beast that roamed Kindrochit
Wid surely hae tae dee'
He killed a capercailzie
As bait tae lure the beast,
An he wid kill the cratur
Fan it cain oot tae feast.
He climmed in ower the castle wa,
Eence the day hid tint its licht.
He laid the bait an drew his bow
The beast wis dee that nicht!
The beastie seen cam snufflin oot
The bait hid played its pairt
Young Sandy lowsed the arra
Intae the coorse beast's hairt.
The Constable wis ragin
The King's beast hid bin slain.
He'd find the chiel fä'd deen the deed!
He'd hing for fit he'd deen!
The sodjers seen caught Sandy.
The King roared oot did he,
"Ye'll dee for this my mannie
For that beast belanged tae me!"
Sandy's widda'd Mither
Pled for her ae son's life.
'An archer, is he?' speired the King.
'Gyang fetch his bairn an wife.'
'Pit them on that rocky crag
An aipple on the bairnie's heid.
If McLeod can sheet the aipple aif
I promise he'll be freed."
His wife an bairn on the crag,
Peer Sandy's hauns did shak.
He wis nearly fifty yairds awa
As he drew his gweed bow back.
The arra flew fae aff the bow
It fussled lood an fierce:
It flew stracht at the bairnie's heid
But the aipple it did pierce.
King Malcolm kept his promise,
"Weel, Sandy, ye've deen fine.
Tak up yer bow an arras
An my bodygaird ye'll jine."
"Your bodygaird! Na, na, gweed King;
For that I'll nivver dee.
Ye gart me risk my wife an bairn
An yer bodygaird I'll nae be."
The King, at first, wis taen aback,
"D'ye rank me wi the De'il?
I'll gie ye this; ye're honest, loon
An ye are a hardy chiel!"
"McLeod is fit fowk ca ye noo,
But hardy is yer fame:
Yer bairn will be his faither's son
An McHardy be his name!"
An sae in Deeside's bonnie land
The King hid bin his say.
The McHardy's settled roon Braemar
An ye'll find them there the day.