Torrisdale Sands

The above file was presented to by Mr Robyn Williams , Mr James Mackay's nephew , via Mr I. H. Fraser. We thank them for their generosity and please respect his rights.


There's a place in North Sutherland precious to me,
Where the Borgie and Naver meet the sea.
It betters the beauty of far foreign lands,
Where the three waters meet on the Torrisdale Sands.  

The Torrisdale Sands are a treat to behold,
Burnished by time to a deep yellow gold.
Where the rocks and the waves will make you their slaves,
As lightly, as the white horses dance over the waves.

So come to this Sutherland haven of peace,
From the strain of the cities you will find quick release.
Where care and contentment are yours to command,
As you bask in the sunshine of the Torrisdale Sands.  

There's many a migrant far far away,
That yearns for a glimpse of the Torrisdale Bay.
In his dreams he returns, though he quite understands,
He may tread, never more, on the Torrisdale Sands.

As the evening draws nigh at the afternoons close,
The rivers are singing their song of repose.
In all of creation there's nothing so grand,
As the sun and the tide, lapping the Torrisdale Sands.

When the night spreads her glow, it's a breathtaking scene,
The rivers are clothed in their silvery sheen.
The mountain of Druim Clieff, like a sentinel stands,
Keeping guard of the glory, of the Torrisdale Sands.

With the moon at her highest, the sands quickly cools,
The salmon lie deep in the dark gleaming pools.
In fancy, you may hear the pipes of the clans,
Who died for your land, and the Torrisdale Sands.

As the moon goes to rest and the sun reappears,
It's a picture you'll cherish the rest of your years.
Though far you may travel for work or to defend your land,
You will return, if you can, to the Torrisdale Sands.

© James Mackay (Lotts, Skerray)