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Yon Bonnie Banks
In yonder glen where thistles bloom,
'Midst heathered hills and meadows groom.
A lark ascends with lilting cheer,
Its song a ballad sweet and clear.
The haggis grazes on the brae,
As daylight wanes at close of day.
Auld tales of kin and bonnie lore,
Whispered by the river's shore.
By yon bonnie banks, auld and grand,
Lovers stroll, hand in hand.
Beneath the moon's enchanting light,
They dance to tunes of Highland night.
Oh, gentle winds, oh, rugged glade,
Where Burns himself might find a shade.
With every verse, a heartfelt plea,
For love, for land, for liberty.
Copyright ©
Mike Roberts
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