POEM TITLE Bound By The Bay
POEM
The greatness of ages cannot be lost,
Under castle shadow in firth we trust,
And oysters quiver beneath the waves,
As they tell of stories of Roman days.
Bings like blood litter our land that we tread,
When hives of humans took in hand dread,
Weapons of industry that through their toil,
Ingratiated those who lusted for oil.
Blackness of water and under ancient soil,
Our people once served appointments of royal,
Who twisted lands of Linlithgowshire,
To serve their needs and utmost desire.
Yet son of servant, daughter of dairy,
Were those left behind to again ferry,
The ship that never sailed in sorrow;
Blackness on Sea into the morrow.
But strength is born of lessons throughout time,
For the heir’s of the lands of Chricton’s shrine,
Along the trail of the Trossachs tears,
The sentinel stands marking the years.
New folk wonder what it had before,
And the elders still know stories of yore,
For faeries and folk once spoke here too,
Where water and land meet under yew.
So come if ye may to the ancient shore,
Amongst the bracken you’ll find the door,
A land of people bound by the bay,
Triumphant Blackness conquers each day.
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