I'll start with these:
Follow The Wild Geese Home © Ted Christopher 1998
At the end of the day does your heart fly To the lochs and the glens and the islands Do you dream of the Clyde or a bonnie border town Do the pipes make you shiver and want to see your mother It’s been too long since you’ve been gone, Too long since you’ve been home To the place that’s forever in your heart To walk your father’s steps again in the soft Scottish rain So follow the wild geese home.
From the wilderness of Torridon to Australia’s New South Wales From The Black Isle to Nova Scotia From Fife to Dubai, New York from a croft on Skye A new beginning whether forced or chasing dreams In San Francisco Bay do you dream of the Tay Do you long to walk down Princes Street once more At night on your rig are your thoughts of Stirling Brig Follow the wild geese home.
Were your forefathers’ families cleared from the land And sent in exile to the New World Did they give that foreign place a loved familiar name Of a home they would never see again Or did you sail on the tide seeking fortune On a ship that you built years before Did you make that last trip to the graveyard To say your final farewell to these shores
For at the end of your days you know your soul will fly And follow the wild geese home
and
The Auld Land
How can ye stand and look so proud over this lovely land- the glen where I spent my childhood that was farmed by my father’s hand? Where he took me out to hunt the hills and fish the Golspie Burn And he taught me God gave us this home to which I never can return.
Stafford you broke my heart when you shipped us all away “You are off to a land of plenty” I heard you say and we will work and sweat to build a new land young and free but it’s Scottish blood that fills these veins and my heart will always be
In the auld land where the thistle grows and the rain comes pouring down On the ruins of our houses that only sheep now roam around Down the paths of my fathers, o’er the dreams of my clan I may be many miles across the sea but she’s still my auld land
You are not of my country but took Sutherland as your bride And you sit down there in London town where you cannot hear my people cry. What kind of man enjoys his wine while his orders are applied As our houses burn in the drifting snow and our children freeze and die
Stafford you broke my heart when you shipped us all away To this world of plenty and a better day Where we have worked with pride and built a new land strong and free But it’s Scottish blood that fills these veins and my heart will always be
In the auld land where the thistle grows and the rain comes pouring down On the ruins of our houses that only sheep now roam around O’er the graves of my fathers, the dreams of my clan I may be many miles across the sea but she’s still my auld land Your money and power destroyed our ways but she’s still my auld land.
©Ted Christopher 2006
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