Matt Armor's "Generations of Change" is a fine song on growing older and handing on the baton to the young.

GENERATIONS OF CHANGE
(Matt Armor)

My faither was a baillie frae a wee fairm at Caiplie
He worked on the land a' 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 Neuk o' Fife
He fee'd on at Randerston, Crawhill and Clephinton
Cambo and Carnbee and big Rennie Hill
At Kingsbarn he married, at Boarhills he's buried
But man, had he lived, he'd be ploughing on still

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

I wisnae fir plooin', tae the sea I wis goin'
Tae 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 whole working day
I've lang lined the Fladden Ground, the Dutch and the Dogger Bank
Pulled the big fish frae the deep Devil's Hole
I've side trawled off Shetland, the Faroes and Iceland
In weather much worse than a body could thole.

        For that day was my day, that way was my way
        Tae follow the fish while my back was still strong
        But that day has passed 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
Tae search for black oil in the far northern sea
Like oilmen 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 Ninian
Claymore and Dunlin, Fisher and Awk
They've made fortunes for sure for in one run ashore
They spend more than I earned in a whole season's work

        But this day is their day, this way is their way
        Tae 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 growing, to the school they're soon going
But the lang weeks o' summer they spend here wi' me
We walk through the warm days, talk o' the auld ways
The cornfield and codfish, the land and the sea
We walk through the fields my father once tilled
Talk wi' the old men that once sailed wi' me
Man, it's been awfu' good, I 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 make of their land, sea and sky
Man, I've seen awfu' change but it still it seems gie strange
        Tae look at my world through a young laddie's eyes.