Hills of Home
White flowers on the hillside, spell out welcome to me
I learnt the names of most of them, walking with my "tadcu"*
He told me all about them, how Garlic is good for wounds
The names of the songbirds as they flew close to the high ground
Knew where to find a hare for the stewpot when it's cold
Or the sly old fox sneaking in the long grass, being bold
The hill has a stream running briskly to the base
From where it meets its sisters making it a river with much haste
Fish flopping about jumping over rocks evading the net
Pictures burnt into my mind which I will never forget.
*. Tadcu --- Grandfather
Penned. 11/06/2014
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