Written about our Scottish homeland, our country……. its wilds, its past, its present, its people and what makes it the beauty that it is……hope you enjoy.
Thanks to Steve & Billy for Bass & Guitars again on this one.
Torridon Fair -
The faded whites of these snow capped fells, and the mist that shrouds him.. well,
Faintly…….The Stag steps from the glen.
On the quiet hill,
He stands, so strong....
At the Torridon Fair, she’ll take your hand and lead you there
A fire burns within the soul, with a heart all shades of gold,..
The summer rains are in the air, and the red skies of the fair,.. the fair,
A boat lies cast aside the shore, returns its timbers to god and rests in auld folklore,
Of kings and men who stood and fought for so much more,
The great Northern lights, the rise the fall, and they guide them all,
On this quiet hill,
Their spirit lives on…....................
Deserted barns, the empty crofts, the tumbled ruins, of what once was,
Redundant rail tracks, the fallow mills, the ghosts of steel, of steam are all but, heather now,