She Called Me Lassie ©

My old grannie called me lassie,
She fed me scones and tea,
She loved to laugh and loved to play,
but she didn't tell stories to me.

No tales heard I of the highlands,
or climbing the hills of heather.
My Dad said, "Just forget it,
there's nothing there but the weather."

I didn't tell them why I asked
for I was a child of seven.
But that morn some pipers had passed my way
and I'd had my first taste of heaven.

Some wild great joy had seized my heart,
I shuddered and grabbed at my throat.
Hot tears sprang fast to my eyes that burned
By a sword I felt myself smote.

Now I too am old and my tale can be told,
though it feels like a crime now confessed.
For those pipes called me from the mists of the glens
and forever I've felt myself blessed.