Rugged rocks and brackened glens
carry the haunt of the piper's whirl,
I fly like the eagle back to you
to ~ the time when I was a girl.
The cannie tip o'the crofter's cap
and the scent fae the bannocks baking,
aw o these can tak me hame, whar
the hi'lands ~ defy faking
Heathered hills 'n piper's whirls
ken...mak ye mair tae me,
in this mind o' mine, Ah ken ye fine
fae the journeys ~ mind ~ gies free.
(c) ZYDHA HART 2007