O' come an' hear o' Castletoon wur village that's so
Wi' its wan long street gaun up and doon where Backies lead awa;
An' reach e rod at Murrayfield where factories grow apace,
Providing freezers by the score and many a droll false face.
O' come wi' me to Castletoon come doon fae Olrig Hill,
By clindreg an' by Quarryside an' the burn o' Stannergill;
Until at last we reach the sea, by banks where lilies grow,
Before us then the ocean lies, golden sands and spray like snow.
Roond by the Peedy Sanny then, to reach the harbour wall,
Where still auld Salts recount their tales o' many a sudden squall;
Then on we go where once the quarries hummed and throbbed wi' life,
Wi' nothing now to show for all the labour and the strife.
An' now the village comes to meet us as we climb the Brae,
Wi courts and streets, an' braw new hooses wi' their gardens gay;
An' so we reach the main street, wi' its super-market stores,
Complete wi' paper shoppie, an its ever open doors;
Wi' banks an kirks an' youth club an' a bakery an' all,
While over all the village broods the Territorial Hall,
So now we've ta'en a turn aroond an' back where we began,
While on our way we've met wi' many a friendly wife and man,
But tho' we've seen some worthies on our travels up and doon,
There's no one yet can tell us where's the castle or the toon!
a look at Castletoon
The Bonny Scrabster Braes
The long, straight road through
Murkle approaching Thurso Town,
Seems bleak and bare until upon the ocean you look down;
And view the bay of Scrabster with its busy harbour scene,
The houses nestling underneath the bonny braes so green.
The harbour is a haven for every kind of craft,
It's walls have sheltered countless ships from river barge to raft!
There sailing yachts and trawlers, and many a fishing yawl,
Have reached its shelter safely, when driven by a squall.
In both world wars it played its part, as troopships on the go,
Brought naval men and soldiers passing through to Scapa Flow;
And many tales can now be told of deeds in peace and war,
With thousands boarding ships to destinations near and far.
Of royal visits it can tell, from past to present day,
When Kings and Queens have landed here, and one Queen came to stay;
There's fewer sights that thrill us more, than on an August day,
To see the bold Brittania anchored there in Scrabster Bay.
But oh! to me, the sight that cheers is when the sun's soft rays,
Shine on the gentle slopes and folds of bonny Scrabster Braes;
The stir and turmoil is forgotten as I feast my eyes,
On nature's play of light and shadow under summer skies.
a look at Scrabster
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