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Highland Men ©

George McKelvey
Newman, West Australia

I stand upon a mountain tall.
A sunny day a town below.
I feel the air upon my face.
I watch the larks above my head.
I watch the heather softly wave.
As if to say goodbye.
I think of highland men of old who loved this land.
Who gave their lives in far off lands
to die in fields of mud and hate.
No one to comfort them.
To hold their hand to touch their brow.
To watch their life fade away.

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