Repeal The 17th
Since Sep 13, 2006
We didn’t come here to fight for them.
To home! The English are too many!
Sons of Scotland; I am William Wallace.
William Wallace is seven feet tall!
Yes, I’ve heard; he kills men by the hundreds.
And if he were here, he’d consume the English with fireballs from his eyes,
and bolts of lightning from his arse.
[the Scots laugh]
I am William Wallace!
And I see a whole army of my country men here in defiance of tyranny.
You’ve come to fight as free men, and free men you are.
But what will you do with that freedom? Will you fight?
Fight? Against that? No, we will run. And we will live.
Aye. Fight and you may die.
Run, and you’ll live...at least a while.
And dying in your beds, many years from now,
would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that,
for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies
that they may take our lives, but they’ll never take...OUR FREEDOM!
Alba gu bràth! ("Scotland until judgment" or "Scotland forever")
Mornay, Lochlan, Craig, here are the king’s terms...
Lead this army off field and he will give you each estates in Yorkshire,
including hereditary title, from which you will pay him an annual duty.
I have an offer for you.
Cheltham, this is William Wallace.
...from which you will pay the king an annual duty...
I said I have an offer for you.
You disrespect a banner of truce?
From his king? Absolutely. Here are Scotland’s terms.
Lower your flags, and march straight back to England,
stopping at every home you pass by to beg forgiveness
for a hundred years of theft, rape, and murder.
Do that and your men shall live.
Do it not, and every one of you will die today.
You are outmatched. You have no heavy cavalry.
In two centuries no army has won without...
I’m not finished!
Before we let you leave, your commander must cross that field,
present himself before this army, put his head between his legs,
and kiss his own arse.