By Bob Smith.
Heich abeen the muntin peaks
The king o birds, the eagle, seeks
His quarry fae the moors alow
A hare aat’s wanderin tae an fro’
Aa alang the muntin side
Wings ootstretch’t in gracefu’ glide
Syne inti a swoop sae faist
The hare nae mair its life dis laist
Inti the sky abeen crag an tree
Ower ti the eyrie he dis flee
Wi prey ti feed his hungry bairns
On a nest o heather sticks an ferns
Aff eence mair towards stags roarin
His majesty the eagle soarin
Seen ti alicht on craggy perch
The grun alow his een wull search
A noble bird aat is clear
Een aat really his nae peer
His size his strength an his speed
Maks him the king o birds indeed.
© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2014
Golden eagle. Image credit: Creative Commons photo, Jason Hickey
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