# General > Literature >  Wick     by John Horne

## trinkie

Wick
                 by John Horne.




 I lo'e our rocky bay in winter's whirlin' day
 When its waters are a'tossin' an' foamin;
 Oh, thrillin' is its roar as it spreads alang the shore,
 Wi' its waves tumblin' white in the gloamin'.


 Chorus-
 Then dinna speak till me o' the sichts ayont the sea,
 Or o' cities wi' their croods crush'd an' groanin' -
 My heart it winna warm till ony ither charm
 As till Wick when it lies in the gloamin' !


 Alang the riverside it has aye been my pride,
 Wi' thochts deep an' grave till gang a-roamin !
 The settin' sun sae bricht,  fillin' a' the stretch wi' licht,
 An' stealin' gently o'er me in the bloamin'.


 Chorus -  


 Oor ruined castles gran'  hoo lonesomely they stan'
 Wi' the win' whistlin' roond them an moanin' !
 Oh, touchin' is the scene wi' the dyin' glints atween
 As the day dies awa' in the gloamin'.

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