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A Call from Home ©

Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia
2003

What is it that calls me home?
Green fields or an old Scots poem,
Is it the rhythm of the sea?
Childhood memories dear to me:

Is it the way that people talk?
Long summer nights out for a walk,
Brethren in a common stand
We are at peace with the land.

Looking out across the moors
Sitting down along the shore,
Listening to the seagulls cry
Or a Sunday morning fry?

Is it the way that people think?
A simple nod, then a wink,
A rainy night out on a spree
A walk along, the river Dee:

Visit old friends from the past
Another day a pleasant task,
Mists rolling down the glen
Sometimes, I just need a friend.

One day your call I will obey
Reminds me of another day,
Far away and over the sea
From childhood, I remember thee.

The Celtic cross as I recall,
Forefathers are the ones, who call,
My home, my land, I have forsaken
Sometimes I know my heart is aching.



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