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Paisleys gleniffer braes It was in the early fiftys, On a cold November morn, In an area known as glenburn, Within Paisley I was born, I was raised within a stones throw, Of my beloved gleniffer braes, And my memory of their beauty, Like a scenic view it stays At my desk within the langcraigs school, From the window I could see, The gentle swaying too and fro, Of each majestic tree, And I knew that from this early age, That no matter where I'd roam, Unless the braes were in my view, I would never feel at home The peace and the tranquility, These green slopes seemed to yield, Was equalled when you reached the top, By the view that it revealed, For Paisley and its outskirts, Could be seen for miles around, Yet the chirp of wild and moorland birds, Would be the only sound I recall the family outings, That were spent upon these braes, Of all my childhood memories, They were my happiest days, The family that seemed content, Would somehow drift apart, And theve behind the memories, Which are stored within my heart If dreams come true it is my hope, In the future I will find, Someday I'll walk upon these slopes, With those I've left behind, And together we will reminisce, Back to my childhood days, And I'll add another memory, Of my beloved gleniffer braes JAMES STIRRAT
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