The Old Cabin

Up through the forest on the windy wee road, It was great to be back again, People nodding and waving, As i entered my little Glen, The river took its twists and turns, It was the artery of this whole place, Weaving through the forest, At a nice and gentle pace, The cabin sat in a quiet wee spot, The neighbours miles away, This was my little sanctuary, My place to go and stay, No telephones,no salesmen, Or bills behind the door, Just me and my old cabin, And the creaky wooden floor, For your dinner you had to catch or shoot, No supermarkets here, Rabbit Stew,Salmon or Trout, Or perhaps a piece of Deer, I chopped some logs for the fire, Enough for a week or two, The old lantern filled with oil, Done all i had to do, It was time to sit and relax now, And take in all around, The only noise was nature, And that rippling water sound.