The Black Smoke Eddied And Wavered As It Rose Over My Father'S
Burning Hall, And Then The Little Sea Breeze Took It And Swept It
Inland Over The Heath-Clad Caithness Hills Which I Loved. Save For
That Black Cloud, The June Sky Was Bright And Blue Overhead, And In
The Sunshine One Could Not See The Red Tongues Of Flame That Were
Licking Up The Last Timbers Of The House Where I Was Born. Round
The Walls, Beyond Reach Of Smoke And Heat, Stood The Foemen Who Had
Wrought The Harm, And Nearer The Great Door Lay Those Of Our Men
Who Had Fallen At The First. There Were Foemen There Also, For It
Had Been A Good Fight.
Burning Hall, And Then The Little Sea Breeze Took It And Swept It
Inland Over The Heath-Clad Caithness Hills Which I Loved. Save For
That Black Cloud, The June Sky Was Bright And Blue Overhead, And In
The Sunshine One Could Not See The Red Tongues Of Flame That Were
Licking Up The Last Timbers Of The House Where I Was Born. Round
The Walls, Beyond Reach Of Smoke And Heat, Stood The Foemen Who Had
Wrought The Harm, And Nearer The Great Door Lay Those Of Our Men
Who Had Fallen At The First. There Were Foemen There Also, For It
Had Been A Good Fight.
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