She’s a mistress that hides her secrets under fret

A flash of Victorian ankle maybe all that you receive

Her true joys often hidden beneath dreich petticoats

She’s the master of mystery, of guile and disguise

The tales she tells echo round the glens

Off barren croft walls and empty harbours

Her booming, brooding silence hides voices

Lost on the winds of time, home, yet no...

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