The shape of an animal up on the cliffs
Moving to and fro in mist that won't lift
Staring down from where it strut
On Muckle Roe where stone juts
The wind and drizzle unending, never blue
Random fat raindrops cutting through
On the patches of lichen it all landed
underneath the red sombre granite
Atop the sea edge cliff the Muckle Roe creature
Caught like a snapshot in random lightning flash
It's shape declares itself to eyes
fright and legends spread
None have the courage to climb for fear
For it's size and appearance
The rumours of what it is
Until this day on the reddish cliffs
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