“Don’t tell me you’re Irish!”
a Scotsman said to me
after he complimented me
on a Scottish-sounding set of names.
I must have winced when he
pronounced me so –
but it is also true
that before the Irish torrent
came to America
that ancestors named
Stuart and Cameron
took root in New Jersey
and the American south
and are part of me
and my American clan.
So I love the skirl of bagpipes.
I own a kilt, and a claymore sword.
I would love to see fog upon
the highland heather,
eat porridge, drink good
Scots brew in Alba’s hills
and embrace the homeland
of my distant kin
on this and all
Saint Andrew's Days.
Comments
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Nothing to wince at.... This takes one back to an ancient homeland that runs in the blood, even after so many years in the mix.
Presbyterian Scots from Ulster that had immigrated in the late eighteenth century ~ Youngs, McCutcheons, McDowells and all were proud to be called "Irish". When the torrents of Catholics flooded in, they switched to "Scots-Irish" to differentiate.
Being a Trimble with smidge of O'Malley, I'm proud of all the bits!
...a kilt, eh? -
I think we are all related, all made of the same star dust, more alike than different.
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Certainly we are all kin - no matter how much it may gall the Scots to admit it.
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