Monday, January 6, 2014

A Voyager’s Song by George Fraser Gallie 1943 aged 21.

 

I drove through the desert of dusty tracks
Through many a Sicilian street.
Past acres of vineyards and Orchards and flax
And mile after mile of red poppies and wheat.

I drove past the Sphinx and the Cairo zoo,
And remembered the trips that I used to do.
And I thought of my friends
And I thought of ‘Craig Mor’

And the old Austin 10
And the hut on the shore.
I lay on the sands of Syracuse
in the heat of a Mediterranean noon

I nakedly swam in the crystal hues
Of the silvery sea by the August moon.
I dived in the foam of the breaking wave
And remembered the spots where I used to bathe.

And I thought of my friends
And I thought of ‘Craig Mor’
Of the rattling stones
And the hut on the shore.

I sauntered down the rutted track
Which wound its way past white-washed farms,
I felt the sun on my naked back
The Italian sun on my face and arms,

I smoked my pipe as I went my way
And remembered the pleasures of yesterday.
And I thought of my friends
And the hut on the shore,

And I thought of ‘Craig Malin’
‘Cregneish’ and ‘Craig Mor’
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