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?