Thro' Scotland's green and bonny land a concrete highway grows
to breach the wall and gouge the park and cross the Esk in shame.
Heavy bank supports the bridge with sewage pipe slung under
despoiling Skinny Robs plantation to pillage and to plunder.
the battle ends not here because the trees are empty
where ecos perched their tents on high, oh yes they were a plenty.
For three months long on winters nights, when we were snug and cosy,
shivered they and soaked wet thro', their plight was not so rosy.
of light cuts forests three to city pass beyond
where tidal wave of traffic heavy rolls from Fordel swift
and melds with west direction flow to stutter and to stop.
No act of God or nature here but man-made ring to blame,
the planners gaff so long ago and Sherriffhall's the name.
sett on line of road surely planners are aware
they do not stop to chop the tree as if they did not care,
but damage caused to brocks abode they know not what they do.
Someone got it badly wrong, now its up to me and you.
where otters play and badgers roam while buzzards rule the roost
whose Esk's blue waters fill with salmon searching for their roots
roe deer run in freedom park cocooned by Salter's walls
and old wood oak five hundred years have seen the change of times
from Monke to Monmouth Mary of Scots and bonnie Charlie too
and bloody tartan fording Esk fleeing lord protectors crew
of the Esk both north and south what tales to tell together
of medieval settlement and roman camp at Smeaton of Castlesteads
and Pickle Dirt where brock resides no more
at meet o' waters dipper and kingfisher as the rivers daughters
and thence to honest toun downstream dispersing iron waters