Evelyne A. McMaster
The Highland Games - Poem by Evelyne A. McMaster
The hills echo with bagpipe tunes,
The 'gathering' is, in full swing,
Tartaned dancers are on stage,
Performing, the 'Highland Fling'.
Spectators gather around the tents,
While others look to see
The caber being tossed around,
Oh! Who will the winner be?
The strongest pull at the tug-o-war,
Muscles, rippling in the sun,
After the pull, a welcomed rest,
Then it's on, with the fun!
Pipe bands parade up and down
Loved by one and all,
With skein dhus and swinging kilts,
They stand, erect and tall.
The scenery is breathtaking,
With mountains in purple hue,
If you go to the next highland games,
Can I come with you?
Comments about The Highland Games by Evelyne A. McMaster
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You