From Angus to Glasgow, from boyhood to a workin man
you fed him, you kept him as only the lowlands can.
He worked hard, respected you, prospects for living fine
just prayed for a miracle when he touched the highland line
Stolen glimpses in the footsteps of his father
keep his fingers on the window sills of hope
He counts his days listing the lost ambitions
and only one still touches his soul
He sees those hills climb upwards forever
the past is warm, his future is cold
He tries to remember his children when they were small
His hands hold their photograph but it can't relate at all
He chases tomorrow, as if he needs another day
for sea cliffs and rock riffs
to shelter from rain in May....