by Graham Donnachaidh
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
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Long ago, walking over the moors of the Cairngorm mountains, I became lost in a bog...the sun was going down fast and I became alarmed with the thought of being alone on that moor...in that bog....for had not my granny warned me when I was a lad, about the other folk who are never seen...but rather....felt..
a whistle in the east
the call tae elfin,
a promise o’ a feast
frae fairie folk kin,
a whisper through the heather
that made the sheep rin,
the panic in the heart that
beat original sin,
a sudden wynd arising lyke
a wailing banshee din.
aince I lost my way ower
the peat bog muir
and the dimming autumn sun
seen me the puir
wha hae hie’d tae the hill
an’ noo panic’d by the
ither warld sang,
ran in stumbling step
nae thochts o’ pride my
fricht noo robbing
me, o’ ony logic sense,
they taunted me,
that bogle o’ the glen
an’ whispering lannanshi.
I’ll niver gae again amangst....
for what it seemed tae me...
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|Reviewed by J. Pajot
|Wonderful tale. I really enjoyed this. Thank you.|
|Reviewed by *********** ********** (Reader)
|Really enjoyed this one Graham..Love your beat.
I grew up in the outback of Australia...My Father (a miner) would to take my Sister and I out to the bush with him when he was prospecting.....One day we went for a walk and got lost...All we could see was red dirt and spinifex for miles....and it was hot and getting late! I'd heard the aboriginal stories about the min-min light and the feather-foot...and I was terrified...lol My father (an excellent bushman) found us… and gave us a good telling off..I think we scared him.
Funny how we always remember the stories told to us as children.
Best wishes, Dani
|Reviewed by Ch'erie de Perrot
|Teehee, Screamin little perishers!
Better tae trip o'er dem than end up in the bog!
Noo good tell.
|Reviewed by A PAX
|:) I had no idea elfin were trouble makers, I thought the little people were supposed to be sweet! This is enchanting lol|
|Reviewed by Oirdheirc Mor (Reader)
you have got to watch those banshee’s they can turn your milk sour.
Me I am just south of Iceland, and tell you what it is bloody cold
I have the best job though, I am the chief cook and bottle washer on this trip.
I have cooked things I have never seen before.
Though I would swap them all for a good haggis and mealie pudding, with turnips and mash.
Throw another peat on the fire.
|Reviewed by Larry Rochelle
|I don't like the idea of little cratures taunting me. I won't invite them to my birthday party. Thanks for the treat, G !|