S coma nair no àit' ar n-eung dhuinn 'S greadhnachas gun fheum ar tòrraidh. The time or place of our death doesn' t matter, since happiness doesn' t need a funeral. Bàrdachd Mhgr. Ailein. The Gaelic Poems of Fr Allan MacDonald. Transcribed, translated and published by John Lorne Campbell; 1965
Here snug in a grave my wife doth lie, She is at rest, and so am I, Who for beneath this stone doth rest Has joined the army oft he blest. The lord has taken her to the sky; The Saints rejoice, and so do I Tears cannot restore her, therefore I cry. Raymond Lamont-Brown:... Continue Reading →
The Scottish warrior and hero of a nation was captured by the English and suffered an atrocious death. Taken to London and hanged, drawn and quartered, his head was put up on London Bridge, the four parts of the body taken to four different places of the realm: Berwick, Perth, Newcastle seem certain. The fourth... Continue Reading →
But what if it wasn’t?? This is the story of Donald Robertson who died at the age of 63 and was put to rest at Cross Kirk Cemetery in Eshaness on Shetland. So far there is nothing sinister or intriguing about the story. It was the year 1848, a time for fascinating discoveries in medicine,... Continue Reading →
Urns were en vogue in the 19th century, not only in Scottish graveyards. It was common in the United States to decorate the grave with an urn. These urns were quite independent from the crematory aspect as they rarely contained ashes but were used as symbols only. An urn is reverential, sombre, elegant and has... Continue Reading →
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