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The Traveller ©

Tom R Young
Kirkcaldy, Scotland

Oft have I stood on foreign shores and trod many a foreign strand
Yet still at night my thoughts returned to this my native land
Oh I have sailed the seven seas from here to far Cathay
And still at dusk my musing mind and thoughts to Scotia stray
I have sailed the Bay of Biscay through troubled angry seas
To reach Gibraltar and itís rock as into the Med we eased
Iíve sailed From Said to Suez through De Lesseps fine canal
Watched the sun set on the desert sands and never found the sight banal
I have crossed the biblical Red Sea on a troopship heavy laden
And rejoiced to leave the searing heat and the barren rocks of Aden
I crossed the Indian ocean with flying fish playing catch me if you can
And I remember all the sights and sounds of the army camps at Kalyan
Of Trimulgherry and Calcutta of Bangalore and Rawalpindi
And travelled many dusty roads the length and breadth of Hindi
Of that Mezzuin with wailing cry calling Muslims out to pray
As he stood above us on his minaret in Andheri in Bombay
And Hindus with their temples where Krishna told them to be humble
As I wondered just how many more were lost deep within the jungle
I have wandered through the teeming streets of Calcutta and Lahore
Yet still my eager thoughts returned to auld Scotiaís ancient shore
I have gazed upon the snowy peaks of the mountains of Nepal
And the pure majesty of Everest which never ceases to enthrall
I have traversed the length of India from Rawalpindi to Madras
viewed the sun scorched arid plains and sighed for greener grass
Iíve walked the jungles of Malaya and sat on the beaches of Johore
Watched the sunrise at Nee Soon and causewayed across to Singapore
I left that green and pleasant land with itís jungles and bird song
And travelled eastwards once again to the island of Hong Kong
The ferry took me to Kowloon on a warm and pleasant day
And I set foot upon the shore of the ancient land of old Cathay
I had so many sights to see with my Scotsmanís roving eye
So I sailed up the river Yangtse till we dropped anchor in Shanghai
I have watched the endless paddy fields from Shanghai up to Nanking
And viewed the old forbidden city which we used to call Peking
I sailed the Pacific ocean serene peaceful and quite calm
And reached the shores of Nippon which we all call Japan
I left that ship in southern Honshu in the harbour port of Kure
And travelled to the western shore in Shimane and Matsue
Those Buddhist shrines of old Japan I remember oh so well
With all the monks in saffron robes and those little tinkling bells
The rolling hills of terraced fields with their little wooden sluices
Rationing out to all the farmers these precious mountain water juices
I have climbed the snow clad mountains of this land we call Japan
Stood on the volcanic tip of Fuji and have skied down mount Daisan
Oh memories what memories of a Scotsman who has roamed
And trod the strands of foreign shores far from my native home
Yet still the call of heathered hills tugged at my Scot's heart strings
For from scenes like these it still is true 'auld Scotiaís grandeur springs'

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