We dream of a Highlands.
She is sweet like Murr’n.
God reached into His heart
and plucked for her one flower.
Though strangers come for Murr’n
they cannot take her knowing:
her strength is in her yielding
to a foreign Hammer’s power.
Her Beauty is beyond by
owing All to the Divine.
Murr’n’s thistle haunts us a-
‘bove Gaeldom’s place and time.
We mythologise the Highlands
like the flight of the greyin’ heron
through the down of the thistle
that God had plucked for Murr’n.