A Memorable North of Scotland Hurricane by H.Henderson

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A Memorable North of Scotland
by H. Henderson

On ceilidh nights in years to be,
Oh long will folks renew
The fifteenth day of January
In nineteen fifty two.

How early on that wintry morn
Beneath a cloudy moon
Old Boreas blew his bugle horn
And to a stormy tune.

Far centred in the wild nor'west
Wild clouds of sleet and rain,
The storm fiend blew, yea, at his best -
He blew with might and main.

The north of Scotland, far and wide,
That morning suffered sore,
With wrecks bestrewed the countryside
Of hen coops by the score !

And many a well thatched skroo of corn,
And many a gilat of hay,
Danced to the music of his horn
While he the tune did play.

What roofs were stripped, both here and there,
Turned almost inside out,
Like saucers flying through the air,
That we have read about.

The fields bestrewed for miles and miles
With wreckage made me sad,
The Orkney and the Shetland Isles
They suffered quite as bad.

When Boreas blew his bugle horn,
Ay, fierce and stronger blew,
So early on a Januar morn
In nineteen fifty two!

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Someone on General is asking about storms in Caithness.
Could this be it ?

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