• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 09

Mountain Myth

"Many, many long moons ago,
Climbing upon a misty Munro,
I heard the footsteps of a Big Grey Man
Filled with fear I ran and ran"

That tale of auld lang syne,
Is no man, but a beast of anither kind,
A huge horned coo, towers ower the Ben,
She's greater far than any grey men.

Her ancient dewlap hangs upon the ridge,
Her fringe flicks away the fearsome midge,
She laps the fresh loch, her thirst to quench,
A hairy, hoary, horny wench.

For it was she that toss't the moon,
Which split in two and held, like a runcible spoon,
In its bowl, a silver city scrapes the sky,
Do you believe such tall tales? Och aye, och aye!