trinkie
14-Jan-08, 21:52
The Road to Caithness
by A B MacLeod
c. 1950.
The road to the north lies over the Ord
Onward and upward and free;
The mighty headlands spread green and broad
With their feet in the restless sea.
The waves beat tirelessly back and under
In time to the seagull's cry
As down they whirl in their search for plunder
Questioning "Why Oh Why ?"
The wind makes music with grey-green water
Eternal, a ceaseless tide;
White horses plunge to endless slaughter,
To death they gallantly ride.
Hither they come from the east, ever fearless,
Dying in thunderous cries,
Their requiem, sung on the rocks of Caithness
Rises on high to the skies.
So, to the laughter of gulls in the dawning,
Winding and up goes the road,
On to the sound of the North's wild mourning
To Caithness across the Ord.
by A B MacLeod
c. 1950.
The road to the north lies over the Ord
Onward and upward and free;
The mighty headlands spread green and broad
With their feet in the restless sea.
The waves beat tirelessly back and under
In time to the seagull's cry
As down they whirl in their search for plunder
Questioning "Why Oh Why ?"
The wind makes music with grey-green water
Eternal, a ceaseless tide;
White horses plunge to endless slaughter,
To death they gallantly ride.
Hither they come from the east, ever fearless,
Dying in thunderous cries,
Their requiem, sung on the rocks of Caithness
Rises on high to the skies.
So, to the laughter of gulls in the dawning,
Winding and up goes the road,
On to the sound of the North's wild mourning
To Caithness across the Ord.