When you’re on the brick
And everything has been wicked
Take a look at this structure rickety
This is the Atlantic Bridge
We’re going to town on bus
We won’t frown it’s just us
Love your bus journey
Have trust in the byrne here
Tigh an Truish; house of trousers
Isle of Lewis; hebcelt fest
Children sing; loud like trout
Xmas brings carol music sounds
The waves on the shore
That save our stores
They are open when it’s cold
And who could as for mair
The sea is a harsh mistress
The glee is a marsh winter
The fleas are nowhere to be seen
The trees are everywhere and gleam
Evergreen trees are abundant
They are even released in the sundown
The seals on the rocks
The hero on the loch
We eat for our ancestors; we eat for the oysters
This stone bridge is a legend
It is great in winter sledging
When you’re on the brick
And everything has been wicked
Take a look at this structure
This is the Atlantic Bridge.
Nee Deep Poetry Blog 