I live in the highlands with valleys and mountains,
Working the soil where I spend all my days,
For this is my home I was born and was raised in,
A crofter my father I learned from his ways.
I followed his footsteps like he had before me,
Passed down generations from father to son,
I gathered the wisdom from all of my elders,
And knew as a crofter a job's never done.
I toiled in the morning I toiled through the evening,
Sowing and planting and turning the sod,
When I was too tired to go on any longer,
I sank to my knees and I then prayed to God.
To bring a good harvest to earn me a living,
To clothe and to feed me so I could survive,
I prayed for my elderly mother and father,
Until they were sadly no longer alive.
I married a lass she was sweet and so pretty,
We raised a young family I taught them my trade,
My boys grew up quickly and as I grew older,
I left them the reins and I lived in their shade.
And now as I look on the valleys and mountains,
With my love beside me our lives almost done,
Our children have learnt all the ways of a crofter,
And carry the torch now from father to son.
ANDREW BLAKEMORE
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-crofter-s-tale/
