In the gentle rolling hills of Perthshire
in hidden green clefts and among high trees
I still sense the young men slowly walking
bearing arms and off to war
my dad among them, fresh and eager
to the haunting call of wild wood pigeon
walking, gathering, walking, walking...
'till back they came
but only some
heads now filled with sounds of gun
and by Blair and Burrelton, Guildtown, Clunie...
I still sense them all in the Perthshire sun