Over majestic rolling hills carpeted in glorious purple heather,
Standing the tests of time exposed to the harsh Scottish weather,
Varying colours of gold and copper with white and lilac too,
Some will make it a posy of good luck and some a delicious brew,
A medicine in old Pictish times, or a soft down where the weary slept,
Or when brewed as heather ale, its salubrious qualities a secret kept,
Stronger than wine and sweeter than honey, a nectar of the covered hills,
Curing consumption and arthritis a common treatment of various ills,
When God first made this land , he looked at hills barren and bare,
He painted the hills with heather, to cover a ground with loving care
Blending in his wisdom the prettiness of a flower and strength of a tree,
Boldly resistant to a harsh climate with the soft fragrance of a potpourri,
Many species enjoy the heather as they roam around its coloured mat,
From the magnificent red dear stags to the infamous Scottish wildcat,
Hidden in its undergrowth grouse hope to evade being hunted as game,
Just like coating its rugged landscape heather is beautiful but never tame.