Belongan
Track tae the banks, turns through the kisseen gaet
the rocky shore borders the vast harbour o Scapa Flow
a drystone dyke skirts a field o sheep
grey lichen clings tae the stones, pure sea air
Wild flooers abound, yillo buttercups, blue scabious
a plooed field beyond the waethered gaet
turnan fae the sea I gaze up tae the hill
tae a cluster o low dwelleens
The but an ben o me graet grandfokk nestles, solid still
chist oot o view is the hoose whaur I wis born
lived in a closs community o freends
kirk, skeul, shop, post offees, haal
Faerther west, amang a stand o stunted trees
the home o me grandfokk, me feyther, his brothers an sister
whaur wae played wae couseens amang the echoes
o a previous generation, grand-auntie, census sock knitter
Roots run deep in this peedie piece of a smaall pereesh
the earliest kent forebear recorded nearby centuries ago
emigrants saeled awaey, London, Canada, New Zealand
bit blood is thick, generations keep contact
Continuan along the shore I reach the burn
whaur a coo stands, coolan hids feet, lambs bask
on the banks, steppan stones lead tae the kirkyerd
stone waal roond the restan place o the ancestors
I still mind the owld wans, twa generations back
sadly tae, some of me generation, geen too soon
thir names more recently etched on granite an stone
I laeve them tae the music o birdsong an the sea.