Freedom
In every country they have there great dogs, and in all the world, dogs don’t come any greater than the hound of the highlands of Scotland. Where the right to roam is still law, where the devil is held capture in uncountable bottles, where mist and rain can break for glorious sunshine, where spirits and magic still still hang on the air, where freedom is freedom, that so many cannot understand.
To Scottish Deerhounds.
To Scottish Deerhounds.
Labels: Freedom of Scotland
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