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Poems by Yvonne Sparkes
The Highland Gathering

The Piper is piping way up in the glen.
You can hear him for many a mile.
When the drone, and the chanter, call all Highland men,
To gather with flair and with style.
They look fine and so proud in their own tartan cloth,
The Kilt, and the Dirk at the ready,
And we know they will not find nearly enough,
Of the whisky to keep them all heady.
MacDonald, MacGregor, the rest of the Clans,
Will meet and put strength to the test.
The moot point of honour for every man,
Is to prove that their Clan is the best.
So gather, and gather, is surely a must,
As tradition and past have decreed.
The Gael seeks his roots, and deems to hold fast,
To his home, to his kin, and his creed.
                                              Yvonne Sparkes    November 2004

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