A short dittie. Newmilns
The Broonie
By Derek Wilson
Roun the hulls of Newmilns are where that I belong
The bonnie burns that twist and turn they send my heart to song
The towering trees with gusting breeze enlightens to my soul
Historic tails in every trail fulfills my every goal
Invention of the train that splits our lovely toon
The lace mills and the workers that left their mark so soon
But that’s all in the past our home will rise again
So be prepared, here we come
United till the end
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