The bonnie streams of Caithness
From Forss to Berriedale,
Flow down from many a fastness
Filled by the winter’s gale.

From the bare hills of Morven
Swell rivers north and south;
Berriedale, fed from the Maiden
Greets Langwell at her mouth.

The lovely Dunbeath water
Goes singing fast and free;
Brown dimpled and full of laughter
It mingles with the sea.

Through thickets dark – to lighten –
Then ‘neath the bridge to steal
The burnie swells to widen
By the quay at Latheronwheel.

The Reisgill burn that wanders
On it’s way to Lybster Bay;
The little stream that lingers
By Clyth – then takes it’s way.

Then on to Wick’s wide river
With it’s harbour grey and old,
Where the seagulls flash and quiver
Above rocks so flat and cold.

And through Strathmore the Water
To Lochmore gently flows;
Then on encircling Dirlot
The Thurso River goes.

Those little streams of Caithness
That travel to the sea
That chatter, glad and careless,
Mean such a lot to me.