The Stag

High on a Scottish crag,
Stands the lonely figure,
Of a dignified stag.
Master of the windswept grass beneath him,
With his many-branched antlers entwined,
No greater creature could you find.
Head of the tribe, the moorland heather and fen,
No wonder, then, he is ‘The Monarch of the Glen’.
His dignified ancestors go back to days long ago,
When these Scottish mountains were deep in snow,
As he stands erect, his bellows echo above the shining loch,
Beneath him the sheep scatter in shock,
The stag, like his forefathers, retains his noble dignity,
From now until eternity.

by Gordon Bannister