Stuart could paint landscapes with no brush in hand.

With his words alone, I could envisage a better land.

Stuart’s writing had purpose, without music it spoke.

A thousand images in my mind his words could evoke.

 

Stuart painted with lyrics, be it mountains or stream.

Or tales of bloody wars or peaceful valleys of green.

He wrote the words of a poet, straight from the heart.

Stuart could conjure up a vision of which we felt a part.

 

When Stuart wrote about hardship, about loss of pride.

I could sense that desperation, until it hurt deep inside.

When Stuart wrote about Ships, I saw the sea unfold.

If he penned words about Winter, I could feel the cold.

 

His line ‘with a river of bodies flowing with the bell’

I could just picture myself in that Corby Town as well.

When Stuart wrote of storms, thunder could be heard.

He was a gifted songwriter in every sense of the word.

(For Stuart Adamson of Big Country.. still loved and missed by so many. RIP Big Man xx)