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Ard Choille!

'S Rioghal Mo Dhream
(Royal is my Race)

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The Children of the Mist - MacGregors Sharing with MacGregors

The Poetry of Yvonne Sparkes
| Skye | Iona |

Skye

Oh to see the misty isle
From on the ferry crossing the Kyle,
And oh to stand beside the loch,
Amidst the baaing, bleating flock.
I'll walk Dunvegan's lovely shores
To Coral Beach, for ever more.

Oh to see those Cuillin Hills,
Black and rugged clouded still,
And see the hills of granite red,
Towering above my head.
The purple Heather growing there,
Surrounds Sligachan everywhere.

Oh to hear the Eagle's cry,
The Oyster Catcher flying by.
To watch the Seals on island homes,
With young that are not fully grown,
And see the Otters at their play,
Around the lochs and in the bay.

Oh to see the dawning light,
On Bracadale the sunset bright.
To see the shafts descend upon,
The Tables Of Macleod beyond,
And find a certain comfort there,
Surpassing mundane life and care.

MacGregor - age 15 months

Iona

Mighty Kings are buried from your past.
Scots and Vikings, side by side,
Near your Abbey and retreat,
Ancient Celt and modern faith abide.
A coracle found your sacred shores,
A holy man would be your vision bright,
To change your faith forever more,
Columba became your guiding light.
Celtic gods would be replaced,
New faith swept across the land,
A Holy wind that's blown,
A storm as strong as in a desert land.
From far and near your Pilgrims here would come,
Consider you such a holy place,
Forever till the setting of the sun,
Men of faith would come to know your grace.
So my Iona of the faithful's heart.
I come like pilgrims in your bygone times,
In faith to find my solitude,
Embrace the inner peace I find.