Recollections From the Golden Cree Iii

Brackish-gurgling days that Unobtrusively slid along Past tussock grass and curled up Balls of Fern... Glued tightly onto structured vanes Of outstretched frond. Venerable Mosses reciting epic tales, Measured throughout Metronomical Strains, Chanting methodically in harmonious Downturn - Wherein contained: Foreboding dialects delivered in a Forgotten Gaelic tongue, Magical incantations sung in unison - Agelessly embedded within the soothing Refrains... Of the ambling rivers enchantments And mysterious, pedantic song. Myths born from legends patiently Abiding Inside secretive, rocky haunts of the Pebble-strewn burn; Here, on silvered nights, proud And ragged banners Can sometimes be glimpsed Fluttering briefly beneath the deep Currents involuted churn; Fleeting visitations occasionally Manifesting... Waiting...waiting...waiting For the wailing of the pipes - That unreleashed souls should so Fervently discern! When the rattling of the Broadsword, Picked up by the Clan Chiefs, Hails the long promised, Bonnie Pretenders overdue return. Morning rose, fell, and harshly broke Upon Corserine And her barren uppermost slope Of littered shale and loosening scree... "Aye, an dae ye no ken fram yon Trools Forested glen" - Over where the black spokes Of the Raven wheels as he croaks - "The gradual swelling sounds permeating Down, From high-upper grounds, Of awakening good Ayrshire folks". The Glasgow South-Western line yawns And reclines As slowly, but surely, it prepares to Climb Past ranked files of stiff Spruce And Evergreen Pines. The engineer meets the foot of the hill, When in concentration of predetermined Course - Her engine an irresistible Nature of unyielding force - Cast metals and flying pistons Combine Into magnificent hurtling and streamlined Design - As she pours over the summit and down The decline - With whistle shrieking triumphant and Shrill! Dark lignite piled in the grimy stack Torn from the dark earths hidden seams; And darkly brooding the land surrounding Acidic lochs That hallows the boilers high pitched Screams. Oh those heady days of rail and steam Where I am left to wonder... The rollicking carriages reverberating Across my thoughts - Like driving hail and rolling thunder! For still scowls sullen Dornal Upon whose western banks A Lairds lordly halls were built; And ghosts abroad: Wandering spirits Of five damned covenanters - Whose thick red blood the indifferent Muskets spilt! Drumlamford House, namesake of the loch, Whose laid Quoin coincides Upon the coronation of an empires Greatest queen... "Sleep ye peacefully beneath darkest Meteorite-streaked Skies" - Arisen...To rollicking white horses Lustily disporting - Admidst joyous flashes of the playful Waves evasive gleam! THESE ARE THE HAPPIEST DAYS OF MY CHILDHOOD. TWENTY MILES OF BEAUTIFUL UNSPOILED RIVER TO ROAM AND FISH IN THE LOWLANDS OF SCOTLAND:- THE RIVER CREE! TO BE CONTINUED... :)