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Galloway All Over ©

Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia

The warm summer wind
That blows in from the sea,
Carries memories
That are dear to me.

A Silver stream where lovers walk,
There is no need for them to talk,
In silence they walk hand in hand.
Primroses spread out across the land.

Woodlands where the pheasants call,
Daffodils that stand so tall.
A storm is gathering well out to sea,
Fishing boats are now in the lee.

Waves are breaking on the rocks below.
Looking down on the snow,
When the tide begins to ebb,
I walk along the riverbed.

A bunch of blue bells in my hand,
If only I could touch the sand.
Bare feet, I wonder on the shore.
Port Logan beach, I adore.

Great battles were fought
Between the Picts and the Scots,
The truth is lost in the heather.
Myth or Tale, the story will live on forever.

Legend, yarn's, and fables,
Ghosts that move a table.
Phantom children crying,
A rocking chair that's sighing.

A phantom light out on the moor,
Someone's tapping at your door.
Memories from the days of yore
The Galloway: that I adore!

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