Home Spun at Deer Cliff

Four thick walls with rounded corners,
On the shore of this Deer Cliff

Four generations lived and left,
At the foot of this Deer Cliff

One hundred-and-thirty years of life,
At the place they call Deer Cliff

Through Clearance, flood and famine
They stayed at this Deer Cliff

Tailoring and Fishing,
Working from this Deer Cliff

Knitting, Weaving, Wool-spinning,
Turn threads to webs of time

Wool-Weaving and Tweed-Making,
Clo Mhor from this Deer Cliff

Nineteen-Fifty saw the end,
The final breath was taken.

Four solid walls and generations,
Direcleit home spun to dereliction.

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