The Huts of Croy. Remember the days gone by as we walked on Croy Bay sand the carrick hills that rang with skylark song and sheep that followed old paths in a borrowed field there stood five wooden huts of unsure age in winter months they stored the tatties fresh from the harvested soil. neeps too had left their mark while wheat grew round about. seagulls flew in sky so blue tress grew large and wild a little burn gurgled by where wagtails and wrens flitted and sang their country song. Mossknowe saw the flowers grow under a summer sun the black huts of croy bay no longer linger there, only a borrowed field remains. above the sheltered shore. Andrew McIntyre 13/9/13 10.12 pm.
Posted on: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 21:13:04 +0000
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