Post by Cameronian on Oct 6, 2003 8:24:48 GMT -6
Scotland’s Highland Immigration schemes
Transported by my thinking back to 1838 when tall ships lay at anchor gathering Camerons on this date.
How did they quell their feelings whilst they boarded on these ships, as they clutched their small possessions with a prayer upon their lips.
The little son now 6 months old, too young the voyage to take. was left behind in family hands a later trip to make.
Weeks and weeks of toss and spray, unable now to rest, the men were sent on deck to sleep with rug and fully dressed.
The food was foul, no-one could eat, the children sick and sad, each day the same, the week was lost, “is this the Sabbath lad? “
Their Diaries show the way they coped, some put the past behind, determined that a land so new would have the chance they’d find.
But when they berthed upon this shore that January day, the heat was cruel, no shelter here for those at Botany Bay.
Their language was no use to them for Beurla here was spoken, so learn they would and work they did, the result was no mere token
With generations (five) now passed , how can I let them know, a Nation here was built by them, the world has watched it grow.
For what Scots brought to all these lands, Australia I can mention, is strength, applied to work well done, a pride without pretension .
So were they missed, these Camerons from land they left so sadly, to sail away from Alba’s shore was not what they did gladly
They passed on tales their fathers told, on parents knees we listened, and so we pass them on to ours within this land they christened.
I’ve travelled to these Highland lands they sadly left behind, the hurt they felt is clearer now the picture more refined.
Perhaps if we can catch the treads that time has frayed and torn, we can re-thread the Tartan back although some parts be worn
Let Scotland know and understand where’re our Clan may be. Our Clan lives on in all these lands, Independent, Proud and Free
And if with pride we then return to lands where they were dwelling, they’ll rest in peace content to know their history’s worth the telling
Transported by my thinking back to 1838 when tall ships lay at anchor gathering Camerons on this date.
How did they quell their feelings whilst they boarded on these ships, as they clutched their small possessions with a prayer upon their lips.
The little son now 6 months old, too young the voyage to take. was left behind in family hands a later trip to make.
Weeks and weeks of toss and spray, unable now to rest, the men were sent on deck to sleep with rug and fully dressed.
The food was foul, no-one could eat, the children sick and sad, each day the same, the week was lost, “is this the Sabbath lad? “
Their Diaries show the way they coped, some put the past behind, determined that a land so new would have the chance they’d find.
But when they berthed upon this shore that January day, the heat was cruel, no shelter here for those at Botany Bay.
Their language was no use to them for Beurla here was spoken, so learn they would and work they did, the result was no mere token
With generations (five) now passed , how can I let them know, a Nation here was built by them, the world has watched it grow.
For what Scots brought to all these lands, Australia I can mention, is strength, applied to work well done, a pride without pretension .
So were they missed, these Camerons from land they left so sadly, to sail away from Alba’s shore was not what they did gladly
They passed on tales their fathers told, on parents knees we listened, and so we pass them on to ours within this land they christened.
I’ve travelled to these Highland lands they sadly left behind, the hurt they felt is clearer now the picture more refined.
Perhaps if we can catch the treads that time has frayed and torn, we can re-thread the Tartan back although some parts be worn
Let Scotland know and understand where’re our Clan may be. Our Clan lives on in all these lands, Independent, Proud and Free
And if with pride we then return to lands where they were dwelling, they’ll rest in peace content to know their history’s worth the telling