by Rita Bradd

Thares somethin i the blude
that maks us trickle awa 
frae these bonnie shores
an spatter oorsels aroon this globe
nae Continent bides unstained
by oor footfa
Asia, Antarctica
hot, cauld we focht oor wey tae them a
i braw brigs an square-riggers mastered
by kin glidin ower wile watters or smaw
frae the likes o Ulva tae Australia
followin compass an stars jist so
we coud airt oot places
whaur we micht sling oor anchors
an tie up wi sweeng-raips
set doon an spread an thread
oor wey frae the hert o Alba
endlang brigs we biggit
an hiegates we laid doon 
an sheucht wi tarmacadam i time
an i the mills blae and reid
yellae an green an gowd an siller 
birl an unendin thraw
flaucht oor lifes fer aye
intae the tartan tapestry thats oor warld.