My Father's Country
by Bryan Clark (Alice Springs, Australia)
In sunny Australia by a nor’western shore,
Sounds of the pipers are rising once more −
A-wailing and calling back over the years,
My father’s country I see through my tears.
Wild craggy mountains reach up to a star,
Sons of the highlands have wandered afar −
In whispering moments, across the wide sea,
The land of my Father is calling to me.
Gum trees are fading as old memories roll,
The spirit of Scotland stirs deep in my soul −
I can feel all the striving, her heartache and pain,
In the land of my Father I live once again.
Mist on the heather and tall kilted men,
With their sombre tales of the hills and the glen −
Bitter-sweet stories of sadness and sighs,
My father’s country I see through his eyes.
Out on the peaks where the clansmen once roared,
In facing the stranger with blood on the sword −
They died for the tartan wherever they met,
The land of my Father will never forget.
Bagpipes still wailing, but drifting away
To the dark, sylvan vales of a sad yesterday −
Soft is the silence where quietly I stand,
In my Father’s country, in my Father’s land.