Ae ould man 'o Week stan's proud and bold
tho' his stons an' bon's are getting gey old
his beard sweeps doon tae the northern shore an his steady e'en watches ae waves as they roar.
He watches aye boaties as he did of old
returning to port and back to the fold
and over the lost one's in their last sleep
he holds constant guard from his northern keep.
To all of his sons so far away
he will keep the faith and always be
part of our heritage Castle at home
we'll remember forever, wherever we roam.

came across this poem and it made me feel very homesick. Ahhhh!
Hope you like it all exiled Weekers.