Shocking how our ancestors were treated. The same happened here in the Western Isles with the clearances. Breaks my heart when I was trying to explain to my four year old grandson the hardships of our ancestors.
For those who enjoy singing along: The May Morning Dew How pleasant in winter to sit by the hob Listening to the barks and the howls of the dog Or in summer to wander the wide valleys through Or to pluck the wild flowers in the May morning dew Summer is coming, oh summer is here With the leaves on the trees and the skies blue and clear And the birds they are singing their fun note so true And the flowers they are springing in the May morning dew The house I was reared in is but a stone on a stone And all 'round the garden the weeds they have grown And all the kind neighbours that ever I knew Like the red rose they've withered in the May morning dew God be with the old folk who are now dead and gone And likewise my brothers, young Dennis and John As they trip trhough the heather the wild hare to pursue With their joys they were mingled in the May morning dew
