A Glen Yonder - A Scots' Poem by Stewart Storrar
Cawin’ tae me,
Yont’ a bizzie hiewey,
It’s sonsie spirit,
A caum pap,
Tae’ ma’ weywart saul.
In ma’ hert a ken’
The glen’s cawin’
Ma’ mynd ken’
The toun’s douth, smorin lums
Aye, ma’ weywart saul,
Fir’ aw it’s flaws,
Wis’ wunnerin’
Boot’ the glen yont’
And aw’ it’s beasties,
Tae’ traivel awa,
Fae’ yir’ awfu toun.
And so a’ gangle,
Doon unner yir’ hiewey,
And a’ gangle,
Up o’er yir’ glen,
Tae’ hunker doon,
An’ answer it’s cawin’
Fir’ aw’ ma’ days aby’
An’ aw’ ma’ days tae’ come,
Nocht compares,
Tae the glen’s cawin’
Wae’ aw’ it’s beasties,
An aw’ it’s blowster.
Aye, nocht compares,
Tae the glen’s caum pap,
Fir’ ma’ weywert saul.
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A Distant Glen
I remember a glen,
Calling to me,
From beyond a busy highway,
It's joyful spirit,
A calm touch,
To my wayward soul.
In my heart I remember,
The glen calling,
My mind remembers,
The town's gloomy, smothering chimneys
Yes, my wayward soul,
For all it's flaws,
Was wondering,
About the glen beyond,
And all it's creatures,
To travel away,
From your awful town.
And so I walk,
Down under your highway,
And I walk,
Up over your glen,
To sit down,
And answer it's calling.
For all my days gone by,
And all my days to come,
Nothing compares,
To the glen's calling,
With all it's creatures,
And all it's wind.
Yes, nothing compares,
To the glen's calm touch,
For my wayward soul.