There is a vale called Alladale
Where words and worldy worries fail
Where sound is keen and fleet as feather
The wind that whispers through the heather
The roar and gurgle of the stream
The splash foretold by salmon's gleam
There is a vale at Alladale
Where bothies sit on rafts of shale
Their hearths ablaze, their flagstones warm
A brief respite against the storm
And yet presiding over these
Above the newly planted trees

Below the freshly moistened peat
A place where many journeys meet
A homely house, where we convene
To wear and talk of all things green
Beneath the frame of Georgian gables
Swapping anecdotes and fables
Building bridges to hereafter
Fortified with wine and laughter
There is a vale called Alladale
Where troubles fled and skies were pale
Where friends were made and days unfurled
Towards a brave and verdant world!