Twas once upon a Sunday morning,
When many a student was left yawning.
A seed of adventure and tale was sown
For a sinister twist in the land had grown.
A plant known as salmonberry had taken root
From pasts ornamental a menacing fruit,
Upon old hillock of forest and green
The place I talk of is now costrophine.
The grand old hill is where we went
With tools and mind all hellbent
We’re here to save our old green hill
From the salmonberry’s gotten ill.
We arrived after mornings birdsong,
The journey outwards rather long
And with so we saw our common foe
And with our tools we struck first blow.
The berries were feeble but also wise
For they had roots against their own demise
As much the roots did put up fight
We cut and dug with our own might
Through saw, mattock and so spade
A new begging had been made
And so with this the sun did smile
And made our efforts all worthwhile.
We took a break with food so good
Our life was brought back to our blood
And with so came the second round
To clear that salmonberry hound
We clambered up old Corstorphine
The hillside harsh and rather mean
With tumble and fall we were not rendered
We ploughed on till the berry surrendered
Dusk soon came and day was done
Our battle was now dearly won
So, time for the pub we all so cheered!
For one hillsides well and now all cleared.
Poem by Michael “Miguel” Inman