The book Arran; - Cook Clan

328 THE BOOK OF ARRAN
The factor ordained in the pride of his power
My kin should disown me, if e'en for an hour
They 'd shelter or aid me, his ire they would feel,
Be stripped of their farms and crushed by his heel.
With my stick in my hand—it was all I possessed
I steered for the lowlands with grief in my breast,
My back to my home and the Isle of my birth,
While the swift steamer bore me soon over the Firth.
'Twas out from the Corrie she knelt to the breeze.
With foam 'neath her prow as she ploughed o'er the seas,
While I in her lee, lying sorry and sore,
Would forfeit my fare to be safely ashore.
The gale on our quarter hard after us roared.
The waves in their anger came dashing on board,
But swiftly she sailed when the Garroch she passed.
And brought us all safe to our haven at last.
At Greenock the iron horse filled me with fear.
As it sped o'er the rails in its rapid career.
Far heard was its neigh and unrivalled its pace.
The fleetest of steeds were soon left in the race.
It brought me to Glasgow 'mid strangers to dwell,
Where the language was strange and their manners as well
But I soon grew expert in that alien tongue,
Though dearer the Gaelic I lisped when young.
I now live with strangers and far from my kin.
With my head nearly split with the tumult and din,
So quickly his hammer each riveter plies,
Waterloo never equalled the clanging and noise.
But those who expelled me from Arran shall be
Without sheep on the moorland or cow on the lea,
While I open-handed shall live in Tormore,
To drink from my cup yet and eat of my store.
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