Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.133.157.86

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

SCOTLAND

Very big sign on highway A1   going southways    
Out of Scotland into England,  
Painted with thistles, tartans, bagpipes,  says
“Haste ye back to bonnie Scotland”.
The  other side of road has a  small squat
Stone saying one word  - “England” - and that’s that.

I am not Scottish:  there’s nobody perfect about.
But I’m the closest thing to  I reckon:
I am a Geordie, a Scot with brains knocked out.
But  mother often told me I was not born - 
But conceived in Scotland -  the Trossachs;   
But nevertheless,  still  one of the  Sassenachs.    

I know Scotland as well  as I know my hand:
Have crossed the  mighty Forth bridges countless times, 
Know the “charms” of  Dundee’s sandstone tenement-land,
Breakfasted at the huge dining table with clock chimes 
In  Carbisdale Castle  youth hostel,  at ease;
And sawed logs for firewood from its fir trees.

I’ve  hitched  with Glaswegian drivers on the Campsie Moors
And listened to their pleasant chatter 
In heavy dialect for  twa hoors 
Without  understanding a word, for that matter;
And often had a dram  and been merry
With the crewmen  on the Ballachulish ferry.

The fact is that Scotland is the most 
Beautiful part of the world I’ve ever known
And the Scots are a  warm generous  host 
Always pleased to help a stranger on his own.
A pub-reading of  Burns’   Tam O’ Shanter
From  a soft  Scots lilt is a real enchanter.

And when you go south on the A1,
All you find  is just England.
That’s probably why  they want 
You  to haste  back to their bonnie land.
Kilts and haggis, the list is endless:
And while you’re there you won’t be friendless.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required