The Sang o' the Saracen Maid – by Craig Smillie
I hae left the lands o the Orient
And traivelled the warld wide
Tae find the faither o my bairn
And rest there by his side
We found him in the desert sand
Sair woundit fae the fray
I took him tae my faither's tent
To tend him mony's the day
His wounds wi silk I bandaged roon
Wi ointments rich and rare
I washed them daily wi my tears
And dried them wi my hair
My hips were girded wi tinkling coins
My briests wi the jasmine flower
When we lay in a silken desert tent
For mony's a loving hour
And the crescent moon filled the desert sky
Like the crest on a Saracen shield
And the stars o the east sang "Bismillah!"
Ower the lovers' silken bield
But I left the palms and the desert sands
For the pines o Bennachie
For the sake o the luve o a Templar lad
Who has cruelly dealt wi me
Now I shiver in the blast o the cauld, cauld wind
At the back o' Bennachie
And I greet at the grave o my bonnie, bonnie bairn
Wha ne'er again I'll see
So sing the song o Persephone
Wha traivelled this warld wide
What set her bearings for the north
With the lodestone o love as her guide
And when the simmer comes tae the Garioch-oh
Of an evening you may sense
A zephyr blaw ower Bennachie
- Carrying the fragrance o Frankincense
(For asylum seekers and traivellers o aa sorts)