Scots Lament

[Heelandcoo]

Here's ah few wee poems by sum Scots folk
ah hink thur jist grand an wanted tae shair

Not My Land ©
Elizabeth Allan
Ontario, Canada
2003
Let me leave these vast green fields,
for they are not mine to keep,
and when I stand upon that land it makes me want to weep.
For these are not my Highland hills,
the old grand hills of old,
instead this soil is strange and foreign to my feet,
my blood, my bone.
Oh let me cry on this merry night,
let me shout and scream for what's mine.
Let me lay on the land that belongs to me,
and in which my forefathers died.
Let me leave this alien land and allow me to live in my own,
for the hills of grass and wheat that grow here are not mine,
it is not my own.

[Heelandcoo]

My Town ©
William Carolan
Luton, England
2003
There's a town in Scotland on the banks of the Clyde,
where they used to build ships to sail far and wide.

The shipyards are gone now it's all very sad,
where there used to be work, now there's none to be had.

There used to be mills too, but they are both gone,
the future looks bleak now, the town so forlorn.

It's strange to go back there and walk round the town,
buildings that used to be, all pulled down.

They say it's for progress we can't stand still,
so they moved all the people up the hill.

The demolition's not finished there's still more to come,
people have no choice, they say it had to be done.

The houses were solid so it was not very clear,
why they had to move, from the homes they loved dear.

Why they had to be moved against their will,
and join the people up on the hill.

The memories I have of this town on the Clyde,
are ones I will cherish with a great deal of pride.

Of my family and friends my feelings will show,
of the place in my heart, PORT GLASGOW!

[Heelandcoo]

Scotland My Hame ©
Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia
2003
I'll walk the roads
The roads that I know,
In rain and sleet
Through frost and snow:
The wild winds blowing
Along the shores,
My heart is aching
For the land I adore.
As the peat fire burns
Deep down in my soul,
My heart is longing
To return to the fold:
Away in the background
Down by the river,
The bagpipes are playing
Scotland forever:
The sound of the pipes
Remain to this day,
My heart is in Scotland
Though far, far away:
I can hear voices
From long, long ago,
Their foot prints I'll follow
Wherever they go.
A tree by the roadside
Where I carved my name,
Scotland forever,
Scotland my Hame.

[Heelandcoo]

Time To Remember Scotland ©
Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia
2003
My parents they both give me love
They told me there was a heaven high above,
Make no mistake; there is a hell
They helped me up, they taught me well
They taught me why the birds all sing
And why I must care for every thing,
The wild deer on the mountains high
And why there is a clear blue sky.
The rain and snow and even thunder
Is part of our world, there was no blunder,
When the snowdrops come alive
And why the bees all build their hives.
Springtime when the whole world comes alive
Newborn lambs, when they arrive,
The Nature of things will remain in force
Man and beast will take their course.
Our homes we build them up on high
At times you can hear us cry,
For someone that was very dear
We sit alone and shed a tear.
Love is the way that we were taught
We keep our family in our thoughts,
Across the world we don't forget
The love we had, without regret.
My children they all have respect
With them I have no regrets,
On sailing ships from far away
They will visit my homeland one-day.

[Heelandcoo]

Under the Sign of the Thistle ©
Sonja Nic Rafferty
Eschede, Germany
2004
Under the sign of the thistle I am faithful to a land
Travelling to the northern lights every year to expand
Under the sign of my clans I sing of Runrig a song
And passionately I write nostalgic poems all day long
Under the sign of Caledonia I live to see sun and rain
In the Celtic soul landscaped gardens of a benefit terrain
Under the sign of a mystic miracle I draw a sketchbook
For advantage of my ancestors cultural heritage I took
Under the sign of a teenage rebellion I defeated a wall
When dreams had come and hope was starting to fall
Under the sign of my memory I take snapshots en route
Where the beautiful flowers of Scotland powerfully shoot

[Heelandcoo]

The Hills of Home ©
Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia
1989
The foot prints of my parents
Are printed deep in me,
The green hills and the heather
Are where I long to be.
I hear the curlew calling
Across the moors at night,
I see an open window
A light is shining bright.
I wonder in the twilight
The moon is riding high,
A moment, then a memory
Of the days gone by.
I hear a voice: I see a face
Far from the distant past,
A precious moment in the night
I try to make it last.
Reaching out to shadows
Voices in the night,
Waiting for a moonbeam
Just to put things right.
I left my native Scotland
I wandered far and wide,
Scotland is my homeland
I cherish that with pride.