Th’ Myth o’ th’ Homeland

Tha’  first glimpse intae th’ valley o’ giants,

O’  th’  universe found on a blade o’ grass,

Tis th’ Muses o’ th’ Lower World, an’ their singings,

inviting yee tae meet th’  basalt  teeth

on th’ shores o’ th’ land called Sorrows.

Th’ homeland in th’ glen

where once a wee child played,

where thy fathers’ generations

toiled an’ now sleep,

an’ doun in th’ valley th’ cattle are lowin

an th’ ewe lambs huddle fur their heat.

Thare below th’ cataracts an th’ highland peaks

Th’ bonny brook flows sweet an clean.

 a better place nah man has known,

nah better place indeed,

than th’ hearth an walls

o’ mother’s home.

Thare be th’ homeland, but nah fo’ thee,

nah fur th’ mariner’s son.

denied tae thee th’ blue skies

an th’ fields o’ green,

th’ young’uns, gurglin an giggling,

a warm hearth an a bed tae dream on.

That is nae th’ fate fur th’ hund o’ th’ sea.

Nah fame nah fortune is in thy stars.

Nah true love tae comfort thy night.

Thy fate, by Destiny’s lead

Is tae wash upon th’ shore

Where th’ sirens sing their wicked call.

About jedwardnajera

I am an artist and a Poet. I live the life of a poet. I published several novels. Nena the Fairy and the Iron Rose, Dust of the Moon are among them, available through Amazon Books. I have spent over thirty five years in a classroom. I am now retired from that profession. My father kept a living record of his lifetime as he lived through the Twentieth Century. He was born in 1908 and almost lived long enough to see us enter the new millennium. He entrusted to me nearly 400 pages that he wrote through the years. Now I am continuing the tradition by posting my own stories and misadventures. I am trying to post a new entry or chapter each Friday. Check in on us at least once a week for the latest post.
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