Kingdom of Sgobharaidh

Their lies on the West Coast of Scotland
A Kingdom that's rarely been seen
Where it's beauty radiates through ones eyes
Even closed you can only but dream

Natures gems thrive through seasonal change
Blessing colonies of sea faring birds
To witness the call of it's wilds
So many voices just have to be heard

Cordyline australis grace her lands
They are palm trees to you and me
A native from a land down under
Not Australia, New Zealand is where they be

This area where this Kingdom lies
With it's rugged and beautiful scenes
Freshwater lochs lure many anglers
To catch the fish of their dreams

Many visiting tourists, some in family trace
To discover where their ancestors be
Capturing snaps of their homelands, a past way of life
Filling the blanks of their family tree

Sporadic green forests of pine
With ferns and heathers, carpet the lands
Rugged juts off an earth from the past
Spewed through her juvenile glands

And this land through your eyes that you see
Is the Kingdom that's rarely seen
If you live here we call it Scourie
So beautiful in natures scheme

Morning Sun Over The Ben

A new day awakens in a bonnie Scottish Glen
As I await the morning sunshine peeking over the Ben
Standing at the door of my centuries old croft
The wild fern's arise as the rays makes them loft

A calming soothing trickle delights my morning ears
Meandering through purple heathers as it's done for many years
Hooded crows show their presence, then silence in quietness fall
In timid look they perch, as they hear a Golden Eagles call

The baaing of the sheep resonate from down the Glen
Freedom to roam they are in the land of crofting men
Above the sun now shines amidst a sky of Saltire blue
This land of clans and tartans, through my eyes you'll see my view

Upon the grass I sit, as I marvel at my surrounds
And my desire for a maiden, to share my Highland grounds
A mid morning stroll I take to absorb just where I am
I start thinking to myself, "aye I'm one of Alba's sons 

Peighinn nam Fadhla - An t-Eilean Dorcha

We walked and talked for hours as we sat on the golden sands
A fine yellow grain so soft, found on Benbecula's open lands

We are so fortunate on this day no swell from the Atlantic shows
The morning sun into the afternoon warms in smiling loving glow

The salty air attracts our taste, as if to say it's there
In splendid scenery surround we absorb and politely stare

We marvel at the breakers as they land with a soft applause
Taking in this day so calm, knowing nature can change with cause

Our afternoon now wanes as we head back along the coast
Looking forward to the evening ceilidh, and to this Dark Island we will toast