Song - Seasons of Galloway
The fields of wheat glow gold and sway
Old mem’ries flock from everywhere
On summer winds they drift in waves
Back to her towns and villages
As guillemots crowd ragged cliffs
And herring shoal off Clanyard Bay
Her sons and daughters all come home
In dreams of their young Galloway
‘Til gales come howlin’ from the west
The Cree runs high beneath the bridge
And Falling leaves ski down the wind
And starlings swirl upon the wing
For summer’s gone and sadness swells
In waves that break in Sand Eel bay
But shades of autumn weave their spell
Amongst the lanes of Galloway
Above Glen Trool the Merrick heights
All sleep beneath a chill of snow
And flights of geese come sweeping in
Across the White loch, flying low
While icy waters plunge down through
The Glen of Luce towards the sea
The cliffs are silent as the grave
And winter winds blast Galloway
‘til bluebell blossoms scent the woods
And timid deer and foxes roam
Amongst the cover on the hill
Above the village of Drummore
As swallows swoop through ancient ruins
Reminders of old yesterdays
But green shoots promise life again
Across the hills of Galloway.
03 09 08
Related quotes
song - Back To Galloway
Back to Galloway
If you’ll come with me, I’ll go back
To where the River Luce falls blue
Through glens of Hazel to the sea
Where my heart lies and yours lies too
If you’ll go with me, I’ll go too
To sit and watch the Fulmars soar
Beyond the cliff towards the sun
Beyond the horn that roars no more
If you’ll come with me, I won’t wait
The Lost Road reaches all the way
Through all we’ve known, through all we’ve shared
And we must walk that way again
(chorus)
We’re going back to Galloway
Back to the simple life we knew
When we were young and love was true
We’re going home to Galloway
If you went with me, I would stay
Amongst her cliffs and glens so free
Or walk the sands of Ardwell Bay
Until the sun sets over me
If you’ll stay with me, I won’t leave
I dream that some day we might share
A humble cottage by the sea
Where we can sit and watch the waves
If you could come, I know you would
To walk beneath the stars we knew
To see the sights we loved back then
When we were young and love was true
(chorus)
I’m going back to Galloway
Back to the simple life we knew
I’m going back to Galloway
I’m going home to wait for you
16 01 07
Epigrams against the Earl of Galloway
What dost thou in that mansion fair?
Flit, Galloway, and find
Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave,
The picture of thy mind.
No Stewart art thou, Galloway,
The Stewarts 'll were brave;
Besides, the Stewarts were but fools,
Not one of them a knave.
Bright ran thy line, O Galloway,
Thro' many a far-fam'd sire!
So ran the far-famed Roman way,
And ended in a mire.
Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway!
In quiet let me live:
I ask no kindness at thy hand,
For thou hast none to give.
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Still You
There's a stream through a glen
Where wild apples grow
It runs down to old cliffs
Where foxes and deer
Watch the wild waters foam
White upon winter shores
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
On the braes by that stream
In cool morning dew
There's a world fresh and free
and still time to dream
of the old and the new
to remember what's true
And I know it's still you
In the waves on the shore
In the stream through the glen
Still you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
Now the stream calls me home
And in its wild song
There's a lost harmony
And here in this glen
By the moon's rise and fall
I know where I belong
And it's with you, still with you
By the waves on the shore
By the stream through the glen
With you in the moonlight
Where apple blossom glows
And sweet breezes still blow
where I'm with you, still with you
Song - Monie a Smile, Monie a Tear
There’s monie a smile and monie a tear
On the mystery tour that brings us here
It’s monie a mile and monie a year
Since you and I sailed fae the crumbling stane pier
It’s time noo tae quit the ocean o’ dreams
Tae gan hame tae the village by the trees
And the wun was fair; we had followin’ seas
Your een were glowin and your heart was free
I lost myself in an whirlpool of words
In a world of hunger, egos and swords
I searched for a song to make it alright
Way back whun everything was black an’ white
And time was wi' us for monie a mile
When the starlight was bright and filled the night
Our hopes reached the sky, and strangers were friends
The waves weren’t breakers between us back then
When we were the morning, fresh as the breeze
Blowin’ oot fae the village by the trees
Noo the loch and glens, and the trees and the hills
The oul stane harbour, they’re all waiting still
And roon the ledges o’ galloway’s cliffs
There’s flocks o' herring gulls and razor bills
And doon by the surge at the Yellow Isle
There’s monie a curse and monie a smile
Or is this me back to the dreamin’ again
Oe'r the bridges of time consigned to flames
When kids fell in love by the oul village shop
And stole tender kisses doon by the White Loch
Tae set them aff doon the road that leads here
Windin’ far fae the village by the trees
The Season of Change
Autumn winds gently in,
washing away Summer's sin...
Autumn winds blow free,
chasing colored leaves from every tree...
Autumn winds chill,
frosting through every valley and hill...
Autumn winds passed,
waiting for Winter's snowy blast.
poem by George Aul
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The River of Me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
That Cheyenne Bodie was ten feet tall
His voice so deep it filled a hall
And that was who I dreamed I’d be
Until Cochise came on the scene
There was ice on the river and ice on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
The fields were full of cows, corn or wheat
The air was thick with bees and heat
The summer lasted all year long
I never knew til it was gone
And then of course came that high school girl
Her glances made my river swirl
More complex than the universe
I never knew what she’d do next
There was light on the river and light on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
And up we soared towards the sky
Through songs and dancing by and by
My waterfalls and waves ran high
For just the winking of an eye
And in the distance the quiet sea
was waiting on the river me
And on the banks the weeds grew tall
Where rusting leaves began to fall
Now there’s night on the river and night on the pond
And the singing nun is long since gone
There are trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And memories in the river of me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
Old Town Types No. 6 - Flash Phil
Still I've the picture of him - Flash Phil Galloway;
In a shining dog-cart driving down the road;
Spanking ponies dashing by,
Running tandem, stepping high;
Silver-plated harness where the sunlight glowed.
Everybody waved to him - Kind Phil Galloway
Bright eye, curling hair, big blond moustache.
No man, in those feckless days,
Thought to curb his reckless ways:
'Right man for the district, sir; tho' just a trifle rash.'
Flash Phil Galloway owned a station property
Left him by his father, back in sixty-nine;
Owned a stretch of sheepland, too,
Left him by his Uncle Lou;
Owned his mother's big estate along the Ballantyne
Three tidy fortunes: and Phil upon a race day
Standing for a luncheon - frills and fancy grub.
'Champagne and caviar,
Every toff a big cigar,
All the tucker packed in ice! Oysters in a tub!'
Flash Phil Galloway, loaded down with mortgages,
Deep in mining ventures 'to make another rise.'
Debonair and reckless still
Generous - the same old Phil,
While kindly bankers were ready with supplies.
Bluff Phil Galloway chatting with the manager:
'Where do I sign this one? Read it? Haw, what rot!'
The banker, as he folds the deed:
'And how much, this time, will you need?'
Laughs Flash Phil Galloway, 'Gad! How much have you got?'
Old Phil Galloway, grey haired and garrulous,
Stopping old acquaintances along the city ways,
Hanging round the leading pub
Lounging by the Squatters' Club
Half-crowns changing hands 'for sake of olden days . . . .'
But I keep my picture of him - Flash Phil Galloway
In a shining dog-cart - I can see him still:
Spanking ponies dashing by,
Running tandem, stepping high;
Silver plated harness - 'Hey! Happy days, Phil!'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Meet Me in the Green Glen
Love, meet me in the green glen,
Beside the tall elm-tree,
Where the sweetbriar smells so sweet agen;
There come with me.
Meet me in the green glen.
Meet me at the sunset
Down in the green glen,
Where we've often met
By hawthorn-tree and foxes' den,
Meet me in the green glen.
Meet me in the green glen,
By sweetbriar bushes there;
Meet me by your own sen,
Where the wild thyme blossoms fair.
Meet me in the green glen.
Meet me by the sweetbriar,
By the mole-hill swelling there;
When the west glows like a fire
God's crimson bed is there.
Meet me in the green glen.
poem by John Clare
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Song - Drummore
Deep in my heart lie mem’ries so sweet
Sunshine o’er Cail’ness, sea at my feet
Wind in the barley drove golden waves
Carry me free to Drummore once again
Down on the Creechan the Isles of Marie
Rose on the ebb like friends from the sea
Round by the foghorn where fulmars glide
Fishermen dangled their dreams in the tide
Only a dream now, Mary has flown
Reckless we plough, and reap what we’ve sown
Time runs so swiftly, soon we grow old
Carry me home to Drummore by the shore
Still there’s a world there, where Fingals thrive
Where even strangers feel they’re alive
Down at East Tarbet, high on the cliffs
Carry me back to the thrill of her kiss
chorus)
Carry me back there; it’s where I belong
Home in Kirkmaiden adrift on her song
Watching the breakers wash up her wild shore
As we walk round the point of Curghie to Drummore
(As we gaze o’er the bay from Curghie to drummore)
(As we think on the loved ones we’ll ne’er hold no more)
14 02 11
The Bluebell
The Bluebell is the sweetest flower
That waves in summer air :
Its blossoms have the mightiest power
To soothe my spirit's care.
There is a spell in purple heath
Too wildly, sadly dear ;
The violet has a fragrant breath,
But fragrance will not cheer,
The trees are bare, the sun is cold,
And seldom, seldom seen ;
The heavens have lost their zone of gold,
And earth her robe of green.
And ice upon the glancing stream
Has cast its sombre shade ;
And distant hills and valleys seem
In frozen mist arrayed.
The Bluebell cannot charm me now,
The heath has lost its bloom ;
The violets in the glen below,
They yield no sweet perfume.
But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell,
'Tis better far away;
I know how fast my tears would swell
To see it smile to-day.
For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fall
Adown that dreary sky,
And gild yon dank and darkened wall
With transient brilliancy;
How do I weep, how do I pine
For the time of flowers to come,
And turn me from that fading shine,
To mourn the fields of home!
poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Winter in Portpatrick (song)
The snowflakes sit like little mountains
On the branches of the trees
By the harbour there the fountain
It must be icebound in this freeze
I'm not so far from home as you
New York city's cold at Xmas time
Though romance warms Fifth Avenue
The cold Atlantic sways between us
(chorus)
But Portpatrick lies so far from here
In the glen between the cliffs
Where breakers lash the lighthouse pier
And you and I once so gently kissed
And as I write I realise
How much is gone, and how much I still
miss
And from the harbour Irish voices
Over here in search of peace
And all through that fleeting summer
We walked yon far off village streets
Though time and distance win at last
here and now you seem to be so close
I smell your hair, I'm in your arms
We're almost back home in the Port love
I saw her playing her guitar and
softly sing of Auld Lang Syne
Looking so like you I wondered
She brought your sweet face back to mind
Sometimes the old songs carry me
Back across the years to be with you
Where summer winds blew off the sea
Where snow falls now on streets we once knew
But Portpatrick lies so far from here
In the glen between the cliffs
Where breakers lash the lighthouse pier
And you and I once so gently kissed
And as I write I realise
How much is gone, and how much I still
miss you.
By The Annisquam
A Far bell tinkles in the hollow,
And heart and soul are fain to follow:
Gone is the rose and gone the swallow:
Autumn is here.
The wild geese draw at dusk their harrow
Above the 'Squam the ebb leaves narrow:
The sea-winds chill you to the marrow:
Sad goes the year.
Among the woods the crows are calling:
The acorns and the leaves are falling:
At sea the fishing-boats are trawling:
Autumn is here.
The jay among the rocks is screaming,
And every way with crimson streaming:
Far up the shore the foam is creaming:
Sleep fills the Year.
The chipmunk on the stones is barking;
The red leaf every path is marking,
Where hills lean to the ocean harking:
Autumn is here.
The fields are starry with the aster,
Where Beauty dreams and dim Disaster
Draws near through mists that gather faster:
Farewell, sweet Year.
Beside the coves driftwood is burning,
And far at sea white sails are turning:
Each day seems filled with deeper yearning:
Autumn is here.
'Good-bye! good-bye!' the Summer's saying:
'Brief was my day as songs of Maying:
The time is come for psalms and praying:
Good-bye, sweet Year.'
Brown bend the ferns by rock and boulder;
The shore seems greyer; ocean older:
The days are misty; nights are colder:
Autumn is here.
The cricket in the grass is crying,
And sad winds in the old woods sighing;
They seem to say, 'Sweet Summer's dying:
Weep for the Year.
'She's wreathed her hair with bay and berry,
And o'er dark pools, the wild-fowl ferry,
Leans dreaming 'neath the wilding cherry:
Autumn is here.
'Good-bye! good-bye to Summer's gladness:
To all her beauty, mirth and madness:
Come sit with us and dream in sadness:
So ends the Year.'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Summer Wind
The summer wind, came blowin' in
From across the sea
It lingered there, to touch you hair
And walk with me
All summer long, we sang a song
And strolled the golden sand
Two sweethearts, and the summer wind
Like painted kites, the days and nights went flyin' by
The world was new, beneath a blue umbrella sky
Then softer than, a piper man one day it called to you
And I lost you, to the summer wind
The autumn wind, and the winter winds have come and gone
And still the days, the lonely days go on and on
And guess who sighs his lullabies through nights that never end
Well my fickle friend, the summer wind
That old summer wind
Talkin' 'bout the summer wind
The summer wind
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angles In The Snow
When december comes
Then we'll take the kids to mama's
They can make snow angels in the yard
Like a christmas card
We'll decorate the tree
Put an angel high above us
Like we always do
At christmas
On and on it goes
Every year new memories to share
And for all we know
We will all of us be there
When the autumn leaves have gone to gold
And swallows know december's calling
I'll be flying home a thousand times
In all my sweetest dreams
I can see the glow in your eyes
As we sit by the fire
Like lovers we knew long ago
While we watch our angels in the snow
When december comes
We'll be trying to remember
Where we packed our woolen winter clothes
Only heaven knows
When december comes
We'll be hanging pine and holly
Singing all the songs we sing at christmas
Home is ever near
Hearts return no matter what we do
And love
Will build a bridge
And i will always be there with you
When the autumn leaves have gone to gold
And swallows know
December's calling
I'll be flying home a thousand times
If only my dreams
And i see the glow in your eyes
As we sit by the fire
Like lovers we knew long ago
While we watch our angels in the snow
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Angels In The Snow
When december comes
Then well take the kids to mamas
They can make snow angels in the yard
Like a christmas card
Well decorate the tree
Put an angel high above us
Like we always do
At christmas
On and on it goes
Every year new memories to share
And for all we know
We will all of us be there
When the autumn leaves have gone to gold
And swallows know decembers calling
Ill be flying home a thousand times
In all my sweetest dreams
I can see the glow in your eyes
As we sit by the fire
Like lovers we knew long ago
While we watch our angels in the snow
When december comes
Well be trying to remember
Where we packed our woolen winter clothes
Only heaven knows
When december comes
Well be hanging pine and holly
Singing all the songs we sing at christmas
Home is ever near
Hearts return no matter what we do
And love
Will build a bridge
And I will always be there with you
When the autumn leaves have gone to gold
And swallows know
Decembers calling
Ill be flying home a thousand times
If only my dreams
And I see the glow in your eyes
As we sit by the fire
Like lovers we knew long ago
While we watch our angels in the snow
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dream in Winter
When all the daisies and daffodils
are buried deep below,
and summer's but a memory
hidden 'pon the drifting snow ~
'tis there beneath the whitened glow,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the dreams of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When all the trees are bared and bent
against wintry winds that blow,
and spring is but a wistful sigh
'pon the branches that bow low ~
'tis there within the boughs so wide,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives the buds of springtime hue
with a gleam of emerald sheen.
When roses fade 'pon winter's morn
as their petals flee on frosty breath,
and thorns are left to sadly yearn
in their bed of beauty's death ~
'tis there beneath those roses grown,
in a bed of greenest green,
that lives a vision of springtime hue
with a gleam of pastel sheen.
When winter brings a world of white,
a wonderland of icy glow,
and ends the seasons of green, and gold,
hidden 'neath a field of snow ~
'tis there the sleeping earth awaits
in a bed of springtime green,
sighing softly through winter's chill,
'pon a dream of emerald sheen.
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumnale for M lady ernestine
The falling leaves dance in the breeze
and clothe the ground beneath the trees,
in autumn colours rich a rare.
The trees themselves will soon be bare.
Left no defence against the wind.
Their winter plans are well designed,
bare twigs and branches hold less snow
than useless leaves they have let go
The wintry gales to no avail
try hard but they are doomed to fail,
They can’t destroy the sturdy trees;
resisting with apparent ease.
Although they bow before the blast
they know that winter cannot last
The winds will die and fade away
the trees will they’re here to stay.
Spring will return the trees will green
as if the winter had not been.
The trees put on their new spring clothes
along with every plant that grows.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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song - Crammag Light
The winter winds are blowin in from Ireland ‘cross the sea
I’m waiting on the pierhead here just watching seagulls wheel
The light is going down now and I’m thinking of the night
When you sailed out from this harbour wall down past Crammag light
The years have passed so slowly since I watched you sail away
I wonder if you’re on the waves still fishing night and day
The tourists have all gone now and I’m by the fireside
In the flames I see you sailing off down past Crammag light
(chorus)
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
The harbour bell is silent now but seabirds on the wing
Are calling out to everywhere, above the breaking waves
But the only song that I can hear is the song the winter sings
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
Remember when we stood upon the cliff at logan head
The sea was like a mill pond and the sun was setting red
The herring boats were drifting southwards on the flooding tide
In the distance we could see the moon over Crammag light
The waves are running high towards the fishpond cottage wall
And all the sea is empty now as darkness starts to fall
The Sanderlings are crying for another day that’s gone
To the south of Laggantulloch, Crammag’s light has just come on
(chorus)
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
The harbour bell is silent now but seabirds on the wing
Are calling out to everywhere, above the breaking waves
But the only song that I can hear is the song the winter sings
Oh Johnny are you never coming back to Logan Bay
I’ve heard the talk about the ghost that haunts the waters here
They say that when the sun goes down his fishing boat appears
In winter’s gales and breaking waves, or so the legends say,
In the sweeping light from Crammag, heading north for Logan Bay
A Dirge
Why were you born when the snow was falling?
You should have come to the cuckoo's calling
Or when grapes are green in the cluster,
Or, at least, when lithe swallows muster
For their far off flying
From summer dying.
Why did you die when the lambs were cropping?
You should have died at the apples' dropping,
When the grasshopper comes to trouble,
And the wheat-fields are sodden stubble,
And all winds go sighing
For sweet things dying.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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