Rosslyn, and the mystic line

Rosslyn, oh Rosslyn...

Who'll plumb thy mystic line?

What master of this mystery,

Can speak your place in time?

Who will stir the sleeping lady,

From her long and lasting sleep,

To raise the treasure of the King,

From the dark and murky deep.

Rosslyn, oh Rosslyn,

Who'll plumb thy mystic line?

What master of this mystery,

Might name your place in time?

And so, the tale continues...

My Great Great Grandmother was Mary St. Clair,
They say I got her eyes and her curly hair.
But hers was brown and mine is gold,
And that's the last time I will be so bold,
As to mention my great great Gramma St. Clair.

And then there were the Browns
And the Carvers and the Macks,
It goes on and on, stretching way back,
Over a hundred years before the Revolution,
We were a Scottish/American institution.
And here at the end, when its finally done,
the name from the tartan,
I wear that one.


...much more to come...