I dreamed one day I’d journey
over the sea to Skye,
and I did, on a modern ferry,
to where the crags reach high.
Like Bonnie Prince Charlie himself,
I had the hills to climb,
where songs and daring legends
were born in the mists of time.
Tag Archives: Scotland
Highlands Morning by James Aitchison
1 CommentMist weeps across the peaty land,
the breaths of ancient warriors
clothe the peaks.
High clouds roam above
the raw silence, a hint of gleaming
in their midst.
Once battles rolled throughout
these glens, as Highlanders
fought the King’s red-coated men.
No invader has stormed
these hills again, and peace
rests upon the folded crests.
In The Highlands by James Aitchison
Leave a commentI am the vast waters beneath the ramparts,
the icy wash against black rocks;
I am the broad distances veiled by mist,
the deep and eerie lochs.
I am embedded
in every Scottish soul,
so that man, with country,
becomes part of the whole.
The Shetland Pony by James Aitchison
Leave a commentI’d love a Shetland pony,
not too high but low.
What a gentle ride he’d be,
not too fast but slow.
I’d love a Shetland pony,
the colour of a bear.
But how does he see where to go
through all that long, long hair?
(Teacher’s note: Shetland ponies originated in the Shetland Isles, located northeast of mainland Scotland. They are very hardy and have survived the harsh Shetland climate since the Bronze Age.)
What’s Outside My Train Window? by James Aitchison
Leave a commentI’m on the Harry Potter train,
in the highlands bold and bleak,
racing through a Scottish glen,
where mist clings to every peak.
The soul of Scotland calls to me
whichever way I look,
from wind-rushed heather on the hill
to every stony brook.
Teacher’s note: The Jacobite steam train, used as the Hogworts Express in the Harry Potter movies, runs between Fort William and Mallaig. This 84-mile round trip is regarded as one of the world’s epic rail journeys.
Poem of the Day
Leave a commentAll about Muck
Have you ever been to Muck?
Or to the island of Eigg?
Perhaps you’ve been to Rum?
No, I’m not pulling your leg!
Three islands lost in the mist,
Just off the West Scottish coast.
That’s where you can eat haggis
Or black pudding served on toast.
Houses dot the lonely coves
Where sea eagles swoop and call,
And when the gale comes howling
You’ll see nobody at all.
Muck and Eigg and Rum, oh aye,
Three little worlds of their own.
So hop onto the ferry,
And you too can call them home.
Australian Children’s Poetry 