The Inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay
Beautiful Hill o' Balgay,
With your green frees and flowers fair,
'Tis health for the old and young
For to be walking there,
To breathe the fragrant air
Emanating from the green bushes
And beautiful flowers there,
Then they can through the burying-ground roam,
And read the epitaphs on the tombstones
Before they go home.
There the lovers can wander safe arm in arm,
For policemen are there to protect them from harm
And to watch there all day,
So that no accident can befall them
In the Hill o' Balgay.
Then there's Harry Scott's mansion,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Also the Law Hill, likewise the Magdalen Green,
And the silvery Tay,
Rolling on its way.
And the coast of Fife,
And the beautiful town of St. Andrews,
Where Cardinal Beaten lost his life;
And to be seen on a clear summer day,
From the top of the beautiful Hill o' Balgay.
On the opening day of the Hill o' Balgay,
It was a most beautiful sight to see
Numerous bands, with flags and banners, assembled in Dundee,
All in grand procession, with spirits light, that day,
March'd out the Blackness Road to the Hill o' Balgay.
The Earl o' Dalhousie was there on the opening day,
Also Harry Scott, the young laird o' Balgay,
And he made a great speech to the people there,
And they applauded him with cries that rent the air.
The Earl o' Dalhousie made a fine speech in his turn,
And said there was only one thing that caus'd him to mourn,-
There was no profection from the rain in the Hill o' Balgay,
And he would give another five hundred pounds away
For to erect a shed for the people upon a rainy day,
To keep them dry and comfortable on the Hill o' Balgay.
Then the people applauded him with three loud cheers,
For their hearts were all opened, and flowed with joyous tears,
So they all dispers'd quietly with spirits light that day,
And that ended the inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Burial of the Reverend Gilfillan
On the Gilfillan burial day,
In the Hill o' Balgay,
It was a most solemn sight to see,
Not fewer than thirty thousand people assembled in Dundee,
All watching the funeral procession of Gilfillan that day,
That death had suddenly taken away,
And was going to be buried in the Hill o' Balgay.
There were about three thousand people in the procession alone,
And many were shedding tears, and several did moan,
And their bosoms heaved with pain,
Because they knew they would never look upon his like again.
There could not be fewer than fifty carriages in the procession that day,
And gentlemen in some of them that had come from far away,
And in whispers some of them did say,
As the hearse bore the precious corpse away,
Along the Nethergate that day.
I'm sure he will be greatly missed by the poor,
For he never turned them empty-handed away from his door;
And to assist them in distress it didn't give him pain,
And I'm sure the poor will never look upon his like again.'
On the Gilfillan burial day, in the Hill o' Balgay,
There was a body of policemen marshalled in grand array
And marched in front of the procession all the way;
Also the relatives and friends of the deceas'd,
Whom I hope from all sorrows has been releas'd,
and whose soul I hope to heaven has fled away,
To sing with saints above for ever and aye.
The provost, magistrates, and town council were in the procession that day;
Also Mrs Gilfillan, who cried and sobbed all the way
For her kind husband, that was always affable and gay,
Which she will remember until her dying day.
When the procession arrived in the Hill o' Balgay,
The people were almost as hush as death, and many of them did say --
As long as we live we'll remember the day
That the great Gilfillan was buried in the Hill o'Balgay.
When the body of the great Gilfillan was lowered into the grave,
'Twas then the people's hearts with sorrow did heave;
And with tearful eyes and bated breath,
Mrs Gilfillan lamented her loving husband's death.
Then she dropped a ringlet of immortelles into his grave,
Then took one last fond look, and in sorrow did leave;
And all the people left with sad hearts that day,
And that ended the Gilfillan burial in the Hill o' Balgay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
With your numerous arches and pillars in so grand array
And your central girders, which seem to the eye
To be almost towering to the sky.
The greatest wonder of the day,
And a great beautification to the River Tay,
Most beautiful to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
That has caused the Emperor of Brazil to leave
His home far away, incognito in his dress,
And view thee ere he passed along en route to Inverness.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
The longest of the present day
That has ever crossed o'er a tidal river stream,
Most gigantic to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
Which will cause great rejoicing on the opening day
And hundreds of people will come from far away,
Also the Queen, most gorgeous to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
And prosperity to Provost Cox, who has given
Thirty thousand pounds and upwards away
In helping to erect the Bridge of the Tay,
Most handsome to be seen,
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
I hope that God will protect all passengers
By night and by day,
And that no accident will befall them while crossing
The Bridge of the Silvery Tay,
For that would be most awful to be seen
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay!
And prosperity to Messrs Bouche and Grothe,
The famous engineers of the present day,
Who have succeeded in erecting the Railway
Bridge of the Silvery Tay,
Which stands unequalled to be seen
Near by Dundee and the Magdalen Green.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Farewell Address at the Argyle Hall
Fellow Citizens of Dundee.
I now must bid farewell to ye.
For I am going to London far away.
But when I will return again I cannot say.
Farewell! Farewell! to the bonnie banks o' the Silvery Tay.
Also the beautiful Hill o' Balgay.
And the ill fated Bridge o' the Silvery Tay.
Which I will remember when I am far away.
Farewell! to my friends and, patrons all.
That rallied around me in the Music Hall.
And those that has rallied around me to night,
I shall not forget when out of sight.
And, if I ever return to Dundee again,
I hope it will be with the laurels of fame.
Plac'd on my brow by dame fortune that fickle Jade.
And, to Court her favour I am not afraid.
Farewell! to every one in the Argyle Hall.
That has Come to hear McGonagall.
Recite, and sing, his Songs to night.
Which I hope will long be rernember'd when I'm out of sight.
Adieu to all my enemies that want to mock me when passing by.
But I excuse them for their ignorance and leave them to the most high.
And, once again, my friends, and enemies. I bid ye all good bye.
And when I am gone ye will for me heave a sigh :-
I return my thanks to my Chairman and my Committee,
For the Kindness they have always shown to me.
I hope the Lord! will protect them when I am far away.
And prosper them in all their undertakings by night and by day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Mansion On The Hill
Theres a place out on the edge of town, sir,
Risin above the factories and the fields
Now, ever since I was a child, I can remember
That mansion on the hill
In the day you can see the children playing
On the road that leads to those gates of hardened steel
Steel gates that completely surround, sir,
The mansion on the hill
At night my daddyd take me and wed ride
Through the streets of a town so silent and still
Park on a back road along the highway side
Look up at that mansion on the hill
In the summer all the lights would shine
Thered be music playin, people laughin all the time
Me and my sister, wed hide out in the tall cornfields
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in linden town
I watch the cars rushin by, home from the mill
Theres a beautiful full moon rising
Above the mansion on the hill
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mansion On The Hill
(bruce springsteen)
Theres a place out on the edge of town sir
Risin above the factories and fields
Now ever since I was a child I can remember
That mansion on the hill
In the day you can see the children playing
On a road that leads to those gates of hardened steel
Steel gates that completely surround sir
That mansion on the hill
At night my daddyd take me and wed ride
Through the streets of a town so silent and still
Park on a back road along the highway signs sir
Look up at the mansion on the hill
In the summer all the lights would shine
Thered be music playin people laughin all the time
Me and my brother wed lie down in the tall cornfields sir
Sit and listen to the mansion on the hill
Tonight down here in linden town
I watch the cars rushin by home from the mill
Theres a beautiful full moon rising
Above the mansion on the hill
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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None So Beautiful
Well theres a cross on the hill where the ragweed has grown
Where a mothers young son sleeps all alone
All for the land that he dreamed he could save
Yeah, theres none so beautiful as the brave
Oh, theres a stone in the meadow with all the weight of the world
Where the flowers are watered by the brown eyes of a girl
She cries for the life that her one true love gave
Yeah, theres none so beautiful as the brave
None so beautiful as the boy who cries freedom
None so beautiful as the voice that carries far
None so strong as love beyond all reason that fears no evil
Undaunted by the dark or any wicked mans heart
Oh theres a cross on a hill where no steeple bells ring
A shrine with no name where little children sing to the rhythm that rocks us
From the cradle to the grave
Yeah, theres none so beautiful
Oh, theres none so beautiful
Oh, theres none so beautiful as the brave
Theres none so beautiful as the brave
song performed by by Gino Vanelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broughty Ferry
Ancient Castle of Broughty Ferry
With walls as strong as Londonderry;
Near by the sea-shore,
Where oft is heard and has been heard the cannon's roar
In the present day and days of yore,
Loudly echoing from shore to shore.
From your impregnable ramparts high
Like the loud thunder in the sky
Enough to frighten a foreign foe away
That would dare to come up the river Tay,
To lay siege to Bonnie Dundee,
I'm sure your cannon-balls wouId make them flee--
Home again to their own land
Because your cannon shot they could not withstand,
They would soon be glad to get away
From the beautiful shores of the silvery Tay.
Ancient Castle, near by Tayside,
The soldiers ought to feel happy that in you reside,
Because from the top they can have a view of Fife,
Which ought to drown their sorrow and give them fresh life,
And make their spirits feel light and gay
As they view the beautiful scenery of the silvery Tay.
The village of Broughty Ferry is most beautiful to see,
With its stately mansions and productive fishery,
Which is a great boon to the villagers and the people of Dundee,
And ought to make them thankful, and unto God to pray
For creating plenty of fish for them in the beautiful Tay.
And the city of Dundee seems beautiful to the eye
With her mill stacks and Old Steeple so high,
Which can be seen on a clear summer day
From the top of Broughty Castle near the mouth of Tay.
Then there's beautiful Reres Hill,
Where the people can ramble at their will
Amongst its beautiful shrubberies and trees so green
Which in the summer season is most charming to be seen,
And ought to drive dull care away,
Because the people can see every clear day
From the top the ships sailing on the silvery Tay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Beautiful Comrie
Ye lovers of the picturesque, away, away!
To beautiful Comrie and have a holiday;
Aud bask in the sunahine and inhale the fragrant air
Emanating from the woodlands and shrubberies there.
The charming village of Comrie is most lovely to be seen,
Especially in the summer season when the trees are green;
And near by is Loch Earn and its waters sparkling clear,
And as the tourist gazes thereon his spirits it will cheer.
Then St. Fillans is a beautiful spot, I must confess,
It is really a picture of rural loveliness;
Because out of the quiet lake the river ripples merrily,
And all round are hills beautiful in shape and nothing uncomely.
The rocky knoll to the south is a most seductive place,
And in the hotel there visitors will find every solace;
And the flower-decked cottages are charming to see,
Also handsome villas suitable for visitors of high and low degree.
Then there's St. Fillan's Hill, a prehistoric fort,
And visitors while there to it should resort;
And to the tourist the best approach is from the west,
Because in climbing the hill his strength it will test.
And descending the hill as best one may,
The scene makes the tourist's heart feel gay;
And by the west side is reached a wooded deli,
And about two hundred yards from that there's St. Fillan's Well.
Oh, charming Comrie! I must conclude my lay,
And to write in praise of thee I virtually do say
That your lovely mountains and silver birches will drive dull care away:
Therefore lovers of the picturesque, away, away!
To beautiful Comrie end have a holidoy,
And I'm sure you will return with spirits, light and gay,
After viewing the Sylvan beauties and hoary beeches there,
Also pines, ferns, and beautiful oaks, I do declare.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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The Hill
Who are those people
living at the top of the hill?
I don't know them.
I guess I never will.
Who are the people
that I see
living at the bottom of the hill
just like me?
We are the complainers
and we find it odd
that the ones at the top of the hill
think they're God.
We need to stop complainin'
and climb up the hill
and shout out loud
'We've had our fill.'
You're not Gods.
You never have been,
These hills where you're livin'
are filled with sin.
You've sinned against humanity
at the bottom of the hill.
And all that you'; ve done
is against God's will.
You're the imposters
with crowns on your head.
You are the laughables
that have been misled.
We, at the bottom of the hill
always will survive.
We'll do what we've always done
to keep our hopes alive.
We will pray.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Terrific Cyclone of 1893
'Twas in the year of 1893, and on the 17th and 18th of November,
Which the people of Dundee and elsewhere will long remember,
The terrific cyclone that blew down trees,
And wrecked many vessels on the high seas.
All along the coast the Storm Fiend did loudly roar,
Whereby many ships were wrecked along the shore,
And many seamen lost their lives,
Which caused their children to mourn and their wives.
Alas! they wiil never see their husbands again,
And to weep for them 'tis all in vain,
Because sorrow never could revive the dead,
Therefore they must weep, knowing all hope is fled.
The people's hearts in Dundee were full of dread
For fear of chimney-cans falling on their heads,
And the roofs of several houses were hurled to the ground,
And the tenants were affrighted, and their sorrow was profound,
And scores of wooden sheds were levelled to the ground,
And chimney stalks fell with a crashing rebound :
The gale swept everything before it in its way;
No less than 250 trees and 37 tombstones were blown down at Balgay.
Oh! it was a pitiful and a terrible sight
To see the fallen trees lying left and right,
Scattered about in the beautiful Hill of Balgay,
Also the tombstones that were swept away.
At Broughty Ferry the gale made a noise like thunder,
Which made the inhabitants shake with fear and wonder
If their dwellings would be blown to the ground,
While the slates and chimney-cans were falling all around.
Early on the 18th a disaster occurred on the Tay :
The wreck of the steamer "Union,"- Oh! horror and dismay!
Whereby four lives have been taken away,
Which will make their friends mourn for many a day.
The steamer left Newburgh for Dundee with a cargo of sand,
And the crew expected they would safely land,
But by the time the steamer was opposite Dundee,
Alas! stronger blew the gale, and heavier grew the sea.
And in order to prevent stranding the anchor was let go,
And with the cold the hearts of the crew were full of woe,
While the merciless Storm .Fiend loudly did roar,
As the vessel was driven towards the Fife shore.
Then the crew took shelter in the stokehole,
From the cold wind they could no longer thole,
But the high seas broke over her, one finding its way
Right into the stokehole, which filled the crew's hearts with dismay.
Then one of the crew, observing that the steamer had broached to,
Immediately went on deck to see what he could do,
And he tried hard to keep her head to the sea,
But the big waves dashed over her furiously.
Then Strachan shouted that the "Union" was sinking fast,
Which caused his companions to stand aghast,
And Strachan tried to lower the small boat,
But alas! the vessel sunk, and the boat wouldn't float,
And before he could recover himself he was struggling in the sea,
And battling with the big waves right manfully,
But his companions sank with the "Union" in the Tay,
Which filled Strachan's heart with sorrow and dismay,
And after a great struggle he reached the beach,
Fortunately so, which he never expected to reach,
For often he was drawn back by the back-wash,
As the big waves against his body did dash.
But, when nearly exhausted, and near to the land,
A piece of wreckage was near him, which he grasped with his hand,
Which providentially came within his reach,
And bruised, and battered, he was thrown on the beach.
He was so exhausted, he was unable to stand upright,
He felt so weakly, he was in such a plight,
Because the big waves had done him bodily harm,
Yet on hands and knees he crept to a house at Northfield farm.
He arrived there at ten minutes past four o'clock,
And when he awakened the inmates, their nerves got a shock,
But under their kind treatment he recovered speedily,
And was able to recount the disaster correctly.
Oh! it was a fearful, and a destructive storm!
I never mind the like since I was born,
Only the Tay Bridge storm of 1879,
And both these storms will be remembered for a very long time.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Up On The Hill
We come from a long line of lenders
Who get rich just exploiting you spenders
But now we just manage our blenders
Up, up, up on the hill
It helps to be charming and funny
Have cute names like binky and bunny
But the main things still oodles of money
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
Top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Marmalade mansions beneath cloudless skies
Breathtaking vistas that baffle your eyes
Were passing our days in a rare atmosphere
Sun, sea, and stars, and warm breezes all year
Our blood is decidedly blue-ish
Were leery of anything newish
And or course, darling, nobodys jewish
Up, up, up on the hill
Up on the hill we are the big cheeses
Up on the hill we own the cool breezes
The top of the heap is where we know we belong
Up on the hill above the confusion
Up on the hill we live our illusions
Up, up, up on the hill
Up, up, up on the hill
Way up, up, up on the hill
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Franchise Demonstration
'Twas in the year of 1884, and on Saturday the 20th of September,
Which the inhabitants of Dundee will long remember
The great Liberal Franchise Demonstration,
Which filled their minds with admiration.
Oh! it was a most magnificent display,
To see about 20 or 30 thousand men all in grand array;
And each man with a medal on his breast;
And every man in the procession dressed in his best.
The banners of the processionists were really grand to see-
The like hasn't been seen for a long time in Dundee;
While sweet music from the bands did rend the skies,
And every processionist was resolved to vote for the Franchise.
And as the procession passed along each street,
The spectators did loudly the processionists greet;
As they viewed their beautiful banners waving in the wind,
They declared such a scene would be ever fresh in their mind.
The mustering of the processionists was very grand,
As along the Esplanade each man took his stand,
And as soon as they were marshalled in grand array,
To the Magdalen Green, in haste, they wended their way.
And when they arrived on the Magdalen Green,
I'm sure it was a very beautiful imposing scene-
While the cheers of that vast multitude ascended to the skies,
For the "Grand Old Man," Gladstone, the Hero of the Franchise,
Who has struggled very hard for the people's rights,
Many long years, and many weary nights;
And I think the "Grand Old Man" will gain the Franchise,
And if he does, the people will laud him to the skies.
And his name should be written in letters of gold :
For he is a wise statesman- true and bold-
Who has advocated the people's rights for many long years;
And when he is dead they will thank him with their tears.
For he is the man for the working man,
And without fear of contradiction, deny it who can;
Because he wishes the working man to have a good coat,
And, both in town and country, to have power to vote.
The reason why the Lords won't pass the Franchise Bill :
They fear that it will do themselves some ill;
That is the reason why they wish to throw it out,
Yes, believe me, fellow citizens, that's the cause without doubt.
The emblems and mottoes in the procession, were really grand,
The like hasn't been seen in broad Scotland;
Especially the picture of Gladstone- the nation's hope,
Who is a much cleverer man than Sir John Cope.
There were masons and ploughmen all in a row,
Also tailors, tenters, and blacksmiths, which made a grand show;
Likewise carters and bakers which was most beautiful to be seen,
To see them marching from the Esplanade to the Magdalen Green.
I'm sure it was a most beautiful sight to see,
The like has never been seen before in Dundee;
Such a body of men, and Gladstone at the helm,
Such a sight, I'm sure, 'twould the Lords o'erwhelm.
Oh! it was grand to see that vast crowd,
And to hear the speeches, most eloquent and loud,
That were made by the speakers, regarding the Franchise;
While the spectators applauded them to the skies.
And for the "Grand Old Man" they gave three cheers,
Hoping he would live for many long years;
And when the speeches were ended, the people's hearts were gay,
And they all dispersed quietly to their homes without delay.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Lavender Hill
I want to walk eternity,
In through the land of make believe.
And watch the clouds roll over me,
And let the sun shine down on me.
The only place that I wanna be,
Lavender hill for me.
Wish I could live on sugar and milk,
Then I could live on lavender hill.
Then I could raise my head to the sky,
And let the sun saturate me with love.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill,
Everybody loves lavender hill.
Even the bird that sits in the tree,
Seems to sing sweet melodies.
Even the breeze is whispering,
Lavender hill for me.
While people eat their biscuits with tea,
They dream of daffodils that sway in the breeze.
And every sunday afternoon,
Tidy ladies shine their shoes.
And every little lady dreams,
Lavender memories.
Lavender hill for me.
Lavender hill for me.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
I wanna walk you up lavender hill.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woak Hill
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods all a sheenèn
Wi' long years o' handlèn,
On dousty red wheel ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn,
I then wer a-le{'a}vèn,
Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Me{'a}ry,
My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn.
Too soon vor my ja{'y} an' my childern,
She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddèn,
To bide at Woak Hill--
I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' a{'i}r-reachèn hand,
To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talkèn
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandrèn
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Me{'a}ry mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.
poem by William Barnes
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A Mansion On The Hill
Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and o how I feel
As I sit here alone in my cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you recall when we parted
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without loving
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years love
To give you a heart true and real
Cause I know youre living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shine bright from yer window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Woak Hill
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods, all a-sheenen
Wi' long years o' handlen,
On dousty red wheels ov a waggon,
To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellen
I then wer a-leaven,
Had sheltered the sleek head o' Meary,
My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall
'S a-lost vrom the vlooren.
To soon vor my jay an' my childern
She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul,
She do hover about us;
To ho vor her motherless childern,
Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo—lest she should tell me hereafter
I stole off 'ithout her,
An' left her, uncalled at house-ridden,
To bide at Woak Hill—
I called her so fondly, wi' lippens
All soundless to others,
An' took her wi' air-reachen hand
To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talken
To light at my shoulder,
An' then led her in at the doorway,
Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season,
My mind wer a-wandren
Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely
A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Meary mid never
Behold herzelf slighted,
I wanted to think that I guided
My guide vrom Woak Hill.
poem by Ingeborg Bachmann
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A Mansion On The Hill
Hank williams
Tonight down here in the valley
Im lonesome and oh, how I feel
As I sit here alone in your cabin
I can see your mansion on the hill
Do you remember when we parted?
The story to me you revealed
You said you could live without love, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
Ive waited all through the years. love
To give you a heart true and real
Cos I know you are living in sorrow
In your loveless mansion on the hill
The light shines bright from your window
The trees stand so silent and still
I know youre alone with your pride, dear
In your loveless mansion on the hill
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bonnie Montrose
Beautiful town of Montrose, I will now commence my lay,
And I will write in praise of thee without dismay,
And in spite of all your foes,
I will venture to call thee Bonnie Montrose.
Your beautiful Chain Bridge is magnificent to be seen,
Spanning the river Esk, a beautiful tidal stream,
Which abounds with trout and salmon,
And can be had for the catching without any gammon.
Then as for the Mid Links, it is most beautiful to be seen, And I'm sure is a very nice bowling green,
Where young men can enjoy themselves and inhale the pure air,
Emanating from the sea and the beautiful flowers there.
And as for the High Street, it's most beautiful to see,
There's no street can surpass it in the town of Dundee,
Because it is so long and wide,
That the people can pass on either side
Without jostling one another
Or going to any bother.
Beautiful town of Montrose, near by the seaside,
With your fine shops and streets so wide,
'Tis health for the people that in you reside,
Because they do inhale the pure fragrant air,
Emanating from the sea waves and shrubberies growing there;
And the inhabitants of Montrose ought to feel gay,
Because you are one of the bonniest towns in Scotland at the present day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Montrose
Beautiful town of Montrose, I will now commence my lay,
And I will write in praise of thee without dismay,
And in spite of all your foes,
l will venture to call thee Bonnie Montrose.
Your beautiful Chain Bridge is magnificent to be seen,
Spanning the river Esk, a beautiful tidal stream,
Which abounds with trout and salmon,
Which can be had for the catching without any gammon.
Then as for the Mid Links, it is most beautiful to be seen, And I'm sure is a very nice bowling green,
Where young men can enjoy themselves and inhale the pure air,
Emanating from the sea and the beautiful flowers there,
And as for the High Street, it's most beautiful to see,
There's no street can surpass it in the town of Dundee,
Because it is so long and wide,
That the people can pass on either side
Without jostling one another or going to any bother.
Beautiful town of Montrose, near by the seaside,
With your fine shops and streets so wide,
'Tis health for the people that in you reside,
Because they do inhale the pure fragrant air,
Emanating from the pure salt wave and shrubberies growing there;
And the inhabitants of Montrose ought to feel gay,
Because it is one of the bonniest towns in Scotland at the present day.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Hill
A hill is in the sky much too high,
Offering us a new scene too beautiful,
But when is the strength to apply?
We must shift and learn and amplify,
Leaving too much time that is abnormal,
A hill is in the sky much too high.
Kill the souls of the fathers that are by,
Watch for the elements of risks considerable,
But when is the strength to apply?
I shun from single mothers who fight and buy
A lesser man who burns the clothes all horrible,
A hill is in the sky much too high.
You must change your job like water, or die,
For to die is greater than to be immortal,
But when is the strength to apply?
Jostle in the sand for a gun or a plan to dissatisfy,
Finding one job is too plain and immoral,
But when is the strength to apply?
A hill is in the sky much too high.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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