John McKay Withey
Comments about John McKay Withey
Over the bluebells and down through the glens,
Along the lochs and over the bens,
Through the mists that hide the heather,
Over the moors in the bleakest of weather.
The salmon rivers they crossed with ease,
They fed on grouse among the trees.
The flighty deer signalled their foe,
The eagle on high, swooped in low.