trinkie
30-Nov-07, 06:20
Homeland of Mine
By George Henderson , Bilbster c. 1952
There’s beauty in the bonnie braes of Dounreay, my home,
Bordered by the Pentland Sea whose waves are flecked with foam;
I love to hear the breakers that lulled me oft to sleep,
The breaking waves of Dounreay Shore – rolling from the deep.
My happy days of boyhood were spent on Dounreay braes,
Would that I had more talent to sweeter sing its praise,
Inspiration there I find to turn my thoughts to song
Strong are the links that bind me to my Dounreay – my home.
Tho’ there’s ae lofty mountain, no river running near,
The murm’ring of Dounreay Burn is music to my ear;
The flowery braes in Summer are sheer delight to roam,
Fond mem’ries do I cherish of walks at Summer’s gloam.
I’ve watched Mid-Summer’s sunset, how lovely was the view,
From braes around my homeland, the braes around Buldoo;
Far out on the horizon the sunset lingers long.
As o’er the Dounreay braes there fall Mid-Summer’s floam.
I turn my thoughts to Dounreay School, and the road I trod,
I feel a lightness in my heart when I’m on that road;
A sadness too, I have felt when near the old school ground,
I think of carefree schoolmates within that narrow bound.
While some of them I yet can see, some from Dounreay’s shore,
Have crossed the great dividing sea beyond Atlanta’s roar;
And some of them, I’m sad to say, cross the Great Divide –
One of them, schoolmate of mine, for King and Country died.
Chief of Caithness beauty spots, I class my native Reay,
Nor is this an idle boast or bold of me to say;
I have penned my sweetest praise to Dounreay in my rhyme,
But such beauty as is there needs nobler pen than mine.
By George Henderson , Bilbster c. 1952
There’s beauty in the bonnie braes of Dounreay, my home,
Bordered by the Pentland Sea whose waves are flecked with foam;
I love to hear the breakers that lulled me oft to sleep,
The breaking waves of Dounreay Shore – rolling from the deep.
My happy days of boyhood were spent on Dounreay braes,
Would that I had more talent to sweeter sing its praise,
Inspiration there I find to turn my thoughts to song
Strong are the links that bind me to my Dounreay – my home.
Tho’ there’s ae lofty mountain, no river running near,
The murm’ring of Dounreay Burn is music to my ear;
The flowery braes in Summer are sheer delight to roam,
Fond mem’ries do I cherish of walks at Summer’s gloam.
I’ve watched Mid-Summer’s sunset, how lovely was the view,
From braes around my homeland, the braes around Buldoo;
Far out on the horizon the sunset lingers long.
As o’er the Dounreay braes there fall Mid-Summer’s floam.
I turn my thoughts to Dounreay School, and the road I trod,
I feel a lightness in my heart when I’m on that road;
A sadness too, I have felt when near the old school ground,
I think of carefree schoolmates within that narrow bound.
While some of them I yet can see, some from Dounreay’s shore,
Have crossed the great dividing sea beyond Atlanta’s roar;
And some of them, I’m sad to say, cross the Great Divide –
One of them, schoolmate of mine, for King and Country died.
Chief of Caithness beauty spots, I class my native Reay,
Nor is this an idle boast or bold of me to say;
I have penned my sweetest praise to Dounreay in my rhyme,
But such beauty as is there needs nobler pen than mine.