Inchmahome Priory ©

Inchmahome Priory at the mercy
Of rough waters, on the scarce named lake,
In Scotland’s peculiar pride. Its sake,
Determined by folklore controversy.
Isolated, cut from land, denial,
Not just a way of life, all men are isles,
Serviced by human arts in frowns and smiles,
Stones quarried, carried, ferried, what trial!
Dedicated to the roving fortunes
Of Menteith, the swish and quaint circumstance,
Great family and tossed casual runes,
Make politics religious remonstrance.
Imagine what food; what service; what tunes;
In remembrance of ever baleful lunes.