Every night Hamish heard the gentle song.
It was sung beautifully.
He didn’t know where it came from.
He went out every day to work on the land.
Felling old trees.
Minding the sheep.
Tending to the ancient graveyard.
By himself most days and nights.
Yet he listened every night.
To a siren’s song.
And she sang
You never loved me anyway
So I am going
A Spate in the Highlands by Peter Graham,