Greenhead ~ By Bob Auld
The August moon had left a chill
An early mist lay thick on the hill
We Scots they say are a canny breed
Canny wi' words but gallant in deed
So I decided you may think it droll
In spite of the mist to take a stroll
But bear in mind I'm country bred
And I yearned a walk around Greenhead
But as I passed among Kerelaw trees
I felt a change a seugh in the breeze
And slowly first in the swirling skies
The mists faded away before my eyes
As myriads of sunbeams bright and gay
Spread o'er the scene 'like break of day
The lowing cattle came o'er the hill
Birds in the bushes sang a mating trill
Swallows were flitting around the burn
Chirping and diving each in his turn
With my heart beating at a faster rate
I carried on up to the filter gate
The mists were like sparkling beads
On the already heavy laden reeds
While the buttercup and clover white
Reflected around their colours bright
And peeping o'er the hill was Goatfell
Just between the Diddup and Corsankell
Neath autumn clouds dancing with mirth
Great glittering jewels of God's good earth.
