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The morning headwind is raw
Nairn Harbour café is the draw
When not in Waterville
Here Chaplin would chill
In the birthplace of Willie Whitelaw
I head for the top of the Firth
To the point, for what it is worth
It’s not my day
The army block the way
They nab the best places on earth
I battle along to Culloden
Not to be confused with Flodden
In under an hour then
Charles lost two thousand men
As the Jacobites were finally downtrodden
This tour has been one long conceit
But I’ve not found a way to cheat
I think my bag’s full of rocks
And I’m just ticking a box
Till finally my circuit’s complete
Been widdershins a long time
The sea on my right as I rhyme
Though it might be viewed
An odd place to conclude
My deasil self finished here in his prime.
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