An Teallach: "the Anvil"

Focus of our lifeline, the mouth of heritage,
Winds blustering past its one great height
Cannot put the lie to its monstrous head,
The crowning glory past the Five Sisters.
Our strong silent sound of the past,
The chinking of links in a rocky forge,
As a Highland Hephaistos to beget our future,
Carving the blessed chains of family.

As with the man of the west who settled in the east,
Tributaries of time trickle down through our fingers,
Glowing fires of battle to change our name,
The hard sound come hissing from the bucket
As a brand to mark each child to come.
Rising to flower in the bleakest of crofts,
Eviction orders transcended, surviving the hill of hunger,
Building and being, living, talking, telling the words,
Words of life, the very metre of being,
The precious vibe of family, that goes on.