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A Call from Home ©

Ian McCrae
Sydney, Australia

What is it that calls me home?
Green fields or an old Scots poem,
Is it the rhythm of the sea?
Childhood memories dear to me:

Is it the way that people talk?
Long summer nights out for a walk,
Brethren in a common stand
We are at peace with the land.

Looking out across the moors
Sitting down along the shore,
Listening to the seagulls cry
Or a Sunday morning fry?

Is it the way that people think?
A simple nod, then a wink,
A rainy night out on a spree
A walk along, the river Dee:

Visit old friends from the past
Another day a pleasant task,
Mists rolling down the glen
Sometimes, I just need a friend.

One day your call I will obey
Reminds me of another day,
Far away and over the sea
From childhood, I remember thee.

The Celtic cross as I recall,
Forefathers are the ones, who call,
My home, my land, I have forsaken
Sometimes I know my heart is aching.

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