I've heard the lonely pipes of Scotland,
Many times in my dreams,
I've seen the land of my ancestors,
Clearly, it seems.
The bright colors of the tartan,
The lively swing of the kilt,
Sent my mind's eye back,
To the place my ancestors knelt.
Rather in a castle, built for a king,
Or in a garden, which grew everything.
I have been given a gift to peep,
When I close my eyes and fall asleep.
It is as if I were standing there,
I've witnessed great battle and love,
The courage and strength of my granddads,
And granddads before them,
All tower from above.
And surrounding them all, with a tune of its own,
were the lonely pipes of Scotland,
Calling me home.
Tradition Poem
The Lonely Pipes Of Scotland
Published by Family Friend Poems November 2010 with permission of the Author.
Advertisement