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I face the east and feel the wind
And dream of hills and glens of home
Where once my children laughed and played
The black faced sheep of landlords roam
Rounded up like sheep ourselves
Our homes were burnt to cinder piles
There was no place for crofters here
Expelled we were from lonely isles
What could they give to compensate
The loss of land and home and kin
A paltry sum and promise of
A land where new starts can begin
A voyage crossing stormy seas
To Canada compelled to go
Too little food, too little hope
What destiny I could not know
The land assigned was far away
So many miles of trail and track
Winter cold, and freezing flesh
Endless nights and skies so black
I carved a field from forests green
Felled the trees, a cabin built
With blistered palms I ploughed the ground
Upon the soil the seeds I spilt
A Highland faith in God’s good grace
I placed upon each passing day
With every stroke of harvest scythe
With upward gaze I’d stop and pray
Winter thawed, and spring days warmed
Summer baked and autumn aged
And as the months and years combined
The battle for survival raged
And then one day with dawning sun
A thought, so wondrous came to me
No rent was owed, no landlord’s threats
That day I knew that I was free
Author’s note: During the period of the Highland Clearances more than half a million people left the Highlands of Scotland in search of a life elsewhere. Many went to Canada.
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