TO WINDSWEPT LANDS WITH SANDY SHORES
And gents beguiled by lasses
To games of chance and lively dance
And whiskey poured in glasses
To heavy horses’ hooves that plod
And plow through fields of heather
And peasant poets farming land
No matter what the weather
To how things are and how things were
When written down in lines
Recall nostalgic times of yore
And “Days of Auld Lang Syne”
So beckon back to Scottish brae
With peat upon the heath
Remembering the days gone by
And souls that lie beneath
A man once lived and died and penned
His words with twists and turns
That echo still across the lands
And so lives Robbie Burns

Thoughts? jeffburkhart@primetimerhymes.com

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