
No one in Scotland can escape from the past. It
is everywhere, haunting like a ghost.
To a Scot, the past clings like sand to wet feet, and is carried about as a
burden.
The many ghosts are always a part of them,
inescapable.

|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj

Fierce with our Hellraising,



For Always, Forever,
Together.
NORTHERN LIGHTS |

|
CROOKTREE |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
Ireland - My Ancestry
Scotland - My Heritage
California - My Birthplace
gjdoxfjdjdxj
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj

|
IRELAND |
Home was home then, My Dear, full of kindly faces.
Fair the day shine as it shone on my childhood –
Fair shine the day on the house with open door;
Lone stands the House, now the Friends are all departed,
The kind hearts, the True Hearts, that loved the place of old.
I go forever and come again no more.
gjdoxfjdjdxj
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj

The Clans of Scotland will never demise,
The Loyalty of such you must realize,
With the Skirl of the Pipes
And the Swing of the Kilt,
Brings a Power that will ne'er wilt!
gjdoxfjdjdxj
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Go
bhfana í ngrá linn, Iad siúd atá í ngrá linn.

Iad siúd nach bhfuil, Go gcasa Dia a gcroíthe.

Agus muna gcasann Sé a gcroíthe Go gcasa Sé caol na coise acu Go
n-aithneoimid iad as a mbacadaíl.


gjdoxfjdjdxj
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj

|
BEN LOMOND |
Bitter words mean little to me.
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
Autumn Winds will blow right through me

|
BEN LOMOND |
And
someday in the Mist of Time
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
When they asked me if I knew you

I'd smile and say you were a friend of mine.
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
And the Sadness would be Lifted from my eyes.

As far as my eyes can see,
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
There are Shadows surrounding me.

And to those I leave behind,
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
gjdoxfjdjdxj
I want you all to know

You've always Shared my Darkest hours I'll miss you when
I go,

Sláinte -- Cheers!

|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
 |
 |
|
|
 |
 |
In the midst of winter,
I finally learned there was in me,
|
|
 |
 |
|