Without suggesting that the place-names are 100% the rest of this is a lot more accurate than appears in the DT

GENERATIONS OF CHANGE By Matt Armour

My faither was a bailey on a wee fairm at Capely
He worked on the land all the days o' his life
By the time he made second he aye said he reckoned
He'd ploughed near on half o' the east nuke of Fife.
He'd fee'd on at Rambuston, Crawhill and Clephington
Tambo and Cornby and Big Renniehill
At Kingsbarns he married, at Bowhills he's buried
But man had he lived, he'd be ploughin' on still

For those days were his days, those ways were his ways
To follow the plough while his back was still strong
But those days have past, and the time came at last
For the weakness of age to make way for the young.

I wasnae for ploughin', to the sea I was goin'
To follow the fish and the fisherman's ways
In rain, hail and sunshine, I've watched the lang run line
Nae man mair contented his hale working day.
I've lang lined the shottie grounds, Dutch and the Dogger Bank,
Pulled the big fish frae the deep devil's hole.
I've side-trolled off Shetland, the Faroes and Iceland
In weather much worse than a body could thole

For those days were my days, those ways were my ways
To follow the fish while my back was still strong
But those days are past, and the time come at last
For the weakness of age to make way for the young.

My sons they have grown, and away they have gone
To search for black oil in the far northern sea
Like oilman they walk and like yankees they talk
There's no much in common 'tween my sons and me.
They've rough-rigged on Josephine, Forties and Ninnian,
Claymore and Dunlin,the Fisher an' a'
They've made fortunes for sure, for in one run ashore
They spend more than I earned in a hale seasons work.

But this day is their day, this way is their way
To ride the rough rigs while their backs are still strong
But this day will pass, and the time come at last
For the weakness of age to make way for the young.

My grandsons are growin', to the school they're soon goin'
The lang weeks o' summer they spend here wi' me
We walk through the warm days and talk o' the old days
O' cornfields and codfish, the land and the sea.
We walk through the fields that my father once tilled,
Talk wi' the old men who once sailed wi' me
Man it's been awf'y good, I've showed them all I could
O' the past and the present, what their future might be.

For the morn will be their day, what will be their way
What will they mak' o' the land, sea and sky?
Man, I've seen awf'y change, but it still seems gae strange
To look at my world through a young laddie's eyes.

Jack