Wet Celtic Hills - Poem by Daniel McDonagh
Over these wet Celtic hills,
On top of these sad Scottish faces,
I lie naked to God
To take my soul from a body that is wasted.
Under a grey clouded sky
That has rained since freedom died,
My tombstone shall be shared with nature
For I have nothing left to share.
On the canal that was born from my tears,
Happiness sails with fresh fears,
For Scotland is trapped within her heart.
In a broken rainbow, were the gold is black.
In the pub were I once drank,
Were my thirst was dry,
Is now a distilled graveyard
For my young friends who have died.
If I am to be remembered
Through the hardships and the ills,
I will be found were the rain makes no sound,
Over these wet Celtic hills
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