I swish and swizzle,

Round tufts and stacks

To the tops of trees,

To the gravel path.

Darting, diving, 

Turning, gliding

Through copse, I whistle.

Barely a rustle in the barley

Hardly a whisper in the hedge

I glide on the air 

Feather of light, 

A wisp of motion,

Through barnyard, 

Through fence, 

Over hillock

Round ledge, searching 

Mouth open, wide,

I collect. 

And then when winter comes

I leave, fly home.

Watch creeping frost

Crawl across land, 

Snowy seasons 

Dapple Hills, white.

Over the ocean

Over the continents

I never land.

But here I live, in warmth

Dusty sands and 

Hot dry meadows. 

Round tufts and stacks 

I fly, my friends 

At my side. 

Till no more we can 

Thole the heat. 

Then back to Britain, 

We fly in the fleet.

My heart is a single track road,

Going to somewhere, 

Distant croft, small hold.
To a forest untold.

My heart is a shining mane,

Sun white sand,
Joyus gallop hame.

Wind chapped lips.

My heart is heather moor,

purple haze on ragged tops,

In sun rays, serpents bathe,

My heart, my home.

My heart is in Scotland,

In the heather moor,

in the boggy track,

the freshest green air.