Hoping For Posthumous Fame During Poetry Month At The Ranch Pen

Red Mountain, Colorado

Red Mountain, Colorado

We’re still observing National Poetry Month here at the Ranch Pen. Last week, I went so far as to compose a fantastical poem about the Schwan man who visits our place every other week, but I realized later that it lacked that certain, well, shall we say…power to touch human emotion and remain in the common psyche forever. Which is a real shame, but…whatever. I doubt Robert Burns, the great Scottish poet, had any idea while penning My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here two-hundred-plus years ago, that some middle-aged farm woman transplanted from the mountains of Colorado to the dry, flatlands of Oklahoma would read it with her heart squeezing from homesickness. Considering that, I feel there is posthumous hope for all my poetical works–Trumpet of the Schwan ManOde To a Little Goat (Deceased) and Ode To a Green Cowdog–at some point. However distant.

But seriously, this poem is for you, flatlanders, fellow displaced highlanders, and Robbie Burns lovers. Enjoy.

*****

My Heart’s in the Highlands

by Robert Burns
(1759-1796)


Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

*****

As always, thanks so much for reading. God bless all y’all and enjoy Ross Harris singing My Heart’s In The Highlands.

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