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Gentleman of the Thistles ©

Mike Barclay
Münster, Germany

There is a ship in a harbour
And an ocean of sweet longings
Tears of golden fairytales
They are born over the red sunset skies.

Glens and Lochs listing to dreams
He is the Gentleman of the Thistles
At night the wind whispers with silent voices

Elves wave a serenade of blossom stars
The green grass strokes his dreams with tenderness
Longings sail across the seven seas of hopes
And the Scottish Rose melting his sorrow away

His soul wishes to fly to the book of never ending love
I can see my Highland brother near the Thistles
Near the ground of ancient ghosts
I know he will find his freedom near the winds

Arm in arm he stands on the hill of sweetness
Mountains of black and silver meet there the skies
His bride is at his side
She is his princess Lady of the Thistles

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