-
There’s a land where huge titanic
rocks are jumbled up in piles,
There I traversed the dolerite on
the apple of all isles;
Like an ant on a stegosaurus back
I crossed the peaks of quartz
That rend the jagged skylines with
citadels and forts:
How wondrous were those vistas
stretching far as I could see…
But sandstone, such a grand stone,
is the brand of stone for me.
When I was but a callow youth I
dared to venture forth
To cross the blackened batholiths
in the legendary north.
The men who take the country on are game and hardy blokes
(They have to be to suffer those
horrendous boulder-chokes)
And deep runs my affection for
that granite by the sea;
But sandstone, that’s a man’s
stone, the brand of stone for me.
The limestone tower, the basalt
cap, each has its special feel,
Igneous and metamorphic too have
their appeal;
They make the framework of the
body of this varied land. But me ?
My bones are bands of ironstone,
my veins are filled with sand!
Each to their own environment,
their own geology,
But sandstone's not a bland stone,
it’s the brand of stone for me.
Out amongst the sandstone slabs my
spirit feels complete
With those lateritic gravels
crunching underneath my feet;
Yes, horses are for courses; in
difference delight
Be it puddingstone conglomerate or
granodiorite;
But classify my rock type as
sedimentary –
As a fan of stone it’s sandstone,
the brand of stone for me.
Yes sandstone, it’s a man’s stone,
not a bland stone, ‘tis a grand stone
And if you understand stone you’ll
know how it must be:
When I demand stone, it’s
sandstone, the brand of stone for me.
Colin Paul Gibson
|
