The Cromarty Girl

by Howard Hunter, written for his wife Carol, a Cromarty girl


As the sun goes down on the rim of the hill,

And the shadows are long, grim and grey,

A red-headed girl with a beautiful smile

Looks out from the edge of the bay.


She picks up her stick and walks on through the streets

That are narrow and icy and cold,

Past Hugh Miller’s Cottage and down to the firth,

It’s a sight that she loves to behold.


She walks further on across beaches and stone,

Where the caves are great gaps in the hill,

And the seagulls all gather and scream overhead

With voices all harsh, high and shrill.


She hikes up South Sutor and catches her breath

At the views that she sees down below,

And after a while she goes down through the woods

Where the ferns and wild flowers all grow.


She watches the ferry boat, battered and bruised

Chug its long weary way ’cross the bay,

The Cromarty Girl has returned to her roots,

And some day she’ll come back to stay.