Far Frae Oor Faithers Lann
Tha aulder generation in their time
Like sheddoes cross tha fiel’s, drift on an’ fade
Lee airth the kenned an’ strangly hoult their ain
Frae planter stock afore them, no’ afeard
Tha rage o’ vengfu’ repparree, dourly
Aye doon tha years, the focht tha landlord’s greed,
We ir tha auld yins noo, last o’ oor line
Wi nane tae folla’, nane tae unnerstan’
Or feel ava what’s deep within tha hairt
Tha fem’ly line or jist a sense o’ place,
We ir tha last tae put oor sowls
Fur aince mair noo on this oor faithers lann
Weel watered wi’ their blind an’ sweit o’ toil
They hoult this airth mair precious than their leives
Noo sich a wee bit left of what aince wus
Seen on this fairm tha weel kenned names nae mair
Whaur new unminefu’ straingers full weel wauld
Tae wipe out clane as if it never wus
A femly’s history, wi ower twa centuries or mair
On rodden, pad, tree, stane and burn
An’ yet we’re strangers tae in this wee place
But barely minded, an’ places since weel kenned
A’ gugly changed be Times sae brutal face
An’ man’s destroyin’ han’, syne we wur weans.
Identify the fem’ly line or jist
This sense o’ place an’ anchors firmly set
Withoot them, only a drifting stranger
Amang the city’s grey unfeeling streets.
Lyle McCurdy
Next: The Hamely Tongue
Previous: On the Road
Contents: Ullans: The Magazine for Ulster-Scots, Nummer 3 Spring 1995