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Scotland ©

Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia
2004

Cold winter days
The sky is blue,
I long to see
The morning dew.

I kneel down and touch
The earth, my land,
And run my fingers
Through the sand.

Snowdrops on the forest floor
A pathway to my own front door,
Birds are signing in the trees
Out on the moor a gentle breeze.

I long to see
My own home land,
From my own armchair
It would be grand.

The Hawthorn trees
When in full bloom,
High in the sky
A bright new moon.

A wish that makes
My dreams come true,
My homeland Scotland
Long over due.


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