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