A far away home for those I
have never known,
And yet; somehow, a gentle grace to me have shown.
Of ancient memories told to children, who told to their children,
Sweet ways, advising, holding in their hand their past filled then,
With tender strength, depth beyond understanding,
Guiding us, holding us, making us know our landing.
Where are those who graced our lives yesterday?
I searched for their lingering spirit gone away.
Gone, gone it was, and I was like one lost on a shore,
Until, a soul of Scotland opened a door.
With renewed vigor I grasped her culture to my bosom
Now, those I have known are back to me, home I've come.
Contrary to the things the world sees of Americans on television,
Those slanted tales, gaudy, violent, often holding derision,
Our women, sometimes thought of as a gliding Cher,
Strutting across some stage all glamour everywhere.
Too bad, the real tale cannot be told of our struggles, often
Our women holding babe, working a job, nose to the grindstone.
From these circumstances and thousands more upon our frail shoulders,
I escaped through God's grace, and for me, Scotland lifted these