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> Ted Christopher
wolfcraig 
Posted: 25-Oct-2007, 03:18 AM
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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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