Near Culdoon View and Muster Lea
There stands an aging old beech tree,
Some names are carved upon her breast
And some are long since laid to rest.
Then there are those by choice of will
Who view the distant Mochrum Hill
While others search just now and then,
For remnants of their childhood glen.
A glen that blossoms wild and free
With purple moors and raging sea,
Where faded dreams of me and mine
Are hid in ancient hills of time.
Thus Culdoon View and Muster Lea
Remain in perfect harmony,
Where that old beech tree heaves a sigh
And aging memories haunt and cry.