Twa traivlers gaed ance to the Hielans awa
I' the hairst: ah ! it’s then that the Hielans are braw !
The tane he gaed — to be like the lave ;
The tither his ane he’rt’s greinin’ drave.

An’ when they baith were cam hame again,
Their friens and neebors were unco fain,
An’ deaved them wi' spierin, ane an’ a’ —
"Weel, what hae ye seen i’ thae Hielans awa ?"

The tane he gantit an’ scra’t his pow —
"Oh ! naething by-ordnar that I mind o’ :
Jist hill an’ heather, an’ loch an’ linn,
An’ the blue o' the lift, an’ the glint o' the sinn."

The tither leuch laigh, an’ the like spak he,
But wi’ blithesome face, an’ wi’ glisterin’ e’e —
“Ay ! hill an’ heather ! an’ loch an’ linn!
An’ the blue o' the lift, an’ the glint o’ the sinn !"

Sir Donald MacAlister (1854-1934)

The Poem for September 2009 was selected by the Scottish Poetry Library.