THE SKYE BOAT SONG

CHORUS: Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing,
Onward, the sailors cry.
Carry the lad that's born to be king
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air,
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare. CHORUS

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Ocean's a royal bed.
Rock'd in the deep Flora will keep
Watch o'er your weary head. CHORUS

Burned are our homes, exile and death,
Scattered the loyal man.
Yet ere the sword, cool in the sheath,
Charlie will come again. CHORUS

(The Skye Boat Song)
Commemorating his escape from these shores when Flora Macdonald took Bonnie Prince Charlie, disguised as a serving. maid, from Uist to Skye in a small boat. Flora is buried at Kilmuir on Skye. Prince Charlie near Rome where he was born.

THE AULD SCOTCH SANGS

o sing to me the auld Scotch sangs I' the braid Scottish tongue.
The sangs my father loved to hear, The sangs my mither sung,
When she sat beside my cradle, Or croon'd me on her knee.
And I wadna sleep, she sang sae sweet The auld Scotch sangs to me.
And I wadna sleep, she sang sae sweet The auld Scotch sangs to me.

Sing ony o' the auld Scotch sangs, The blithesome or the sad,
They mak' me smile when I am wae, And greet when I am glad.
My heart goes back to auld Scotland, The saut tear dims my e'e,
And the Scotch blood leaps in a' my veins, As ye sing the sangs to me.
And the Scotch blood leaps in a' my veins, As ye sing the sangs to me.

Sing on, sing mair o' thae auld sangs, For ilka ane can tell
O' joy or sorrow i' the past Where mem'ry lo'es to dwell,
Tho' hair grows grey and limbs grow auld, Until the day I dee,
I'll bless the Scottish tongue that sings The auld Scotch sangs to me.
I'll bless the Scottish tongue that sings The auld Scotch sangs to me.

(The Auld Scotch Sangs)
Many old Scottish songs originated with the earliest Highland Games when friends gathered together with the Clan Chief to sing, dance and compete.

AMAZING GRACE

Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found was blind but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear and grace my fear relieved.
How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares We have already come.
'Twas grace that brought us safe thus far and grace will lead us home.

When we've been there ten thousand years Bright shining as the sun.
We've no less days to sing God's praise than when we first begun.

(Amazing Grace)
The music of this song is an old pipe tune to which modern Words have given new impetus. !t is easy to imagine the joyful return of battle. worn warriors to the skirl of the pipes.

ANNIE LAURIE

Maxwellton braes are bonnie, Where early fa's the dew,
And 'twas there that Annie Laurie Gave me her promise true.
Gave me her promise true, Which ne'er forgot will be,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie, I lay me doon and dee.

Her brow is like the snowdrift, Her throat is like a swan,
Her face it is the fairest That e'er the sun shone on.
That e'er the sun shone on, And dark blue is her ee,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie I lay me doon and dee.

Like dew on th' gowan lying, Is the fa' o' her fairy feet,
And like winds in summer sighing Her voice is low and sweet.
Her voice is low and sweet, And she's a' the world to me,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie, I lay me doon and dee.

(Annie Laurie)
Written by Lady John Scott (1810-1900) who altered the second verse and composed the third. A favourite with Scotsmen during the Crimean War.

AE FOND KISS

Ae fond kiss and then we sever
Ae fareweel, alas for ever
Deep in heart-wrung tears i'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Nae thing could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever;
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly.
Never met or never parted
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest,
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest,
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met or never parted
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

(Ae Fond Kiss)
Robert Burns wrote this song of farewell to his 'Clarinda 'on her departure abroad from Edinburgh. The last four lines were declared by Sir Walter Scott and Lord Byron to contain the essence of a thousand love tales.

THE AULD HOOSE

Oh! the auld hoose, the auld hoose, What tho' the rooms were wee,
Oh, kind hearts were dwelling there, And bairnies fu' o' glee.
And wild rose and the jassamine Still hang upon the wa
Hoo mony cherished memories Do they sweet flow 'rs reca'.

Oh, the auld Laird, the auld Laird Sae canty, kind and crouse.
Hoo mony did he welcome there, His ain wee dear auld hoose.
And the leddy, too, sae genty, There shelter'd Scoltand's heir,
An' clipt a lock wi' her ain han' Frae his long yellow hair

The mavis still doth sweetly sing, The bluebells sweetly blaw.
The bonnie Earn's clear, winding still But the auld hoose is awa'.
The auld hoose, the auld hoose Deserted tho' ye be,
There ne'er can be a new hoose, Will seem sae fair to me.

Still flourishing the auld pear tree The bairnies liked to see.
And oh hoo often did they speir When ripe they a' wad be?
The voices sweet, the wee bit feet Aye runnin' here and there.
The merry shouts oh, whiles we greet To think we'll hear nae mair.

(The Auld Hoose)
What home was like in the 1700s.

BONNIE BANKS O' LOCH LOMON'

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomon'.
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.

Chorus:

O ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak' the low road,
An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye;
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.

'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomon',
Where in purple hue the Hieland hills we view,
An' the moon comin' out in the gloamin'

Chorus: O ye'll tak' the high road etc.

The wee birdies sing and the wild flow'rs spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleepin';
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring,
Tho' the waefu' may cease frae their greetin'.

Chorns: O ye'll tak' the high road etc.

(Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomon')
The song refers to two of Bonnie Prince Charlie 's men left behind in Carlisle after his retreat from England. One was to be executed, the other released. The Spirit of the dead soldier travelling by the 'low road' would reach Scotland before his comrade, struggling over mlles of high rugged country.

THE BONNIE LASS O 'BALLOCHMYLE

Fair is the morn in flow'ry May, A
nd sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
But woman nature's darling child
There all her charms she does compile;
E'en there her other works are foil'd
E'en there her other works are foil'd
By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

Chorus
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle
The bonnie lass!
--The bonnie, bonnie lass!
The bonnie lasso' Ballochmyle.

O had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotland's plain!
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain,
Withjoy, with rapture, I would toil;
And nightly to my bosom strain,
And nightly to my bosom strain,
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

Chorus;
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle The bonnie lass!
The bonnie, bonnie lass! The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.

(Bonnie Lass o' Ballochmyle)
Ballochmyle stands on the banks of the River Ayr and the song was written by Robert Burns to a lady he admired in 1786. His feelings were not reciprocated but are immortalised in these words.

BONNIE STRATHYRE

There's meadows in Lanark and mountains in Skye,
And pastures in Hielands and Lowlands forbye;
But there's nae greater luck that the heart could desire
Than to herd the fine cattle in bonnie Strathyre.

O' it's up in the morn and awa' to the hill,
When the lang simmer days are sae warm and sae still,
Till the peak o' Ben Voirlich is girdled wi' fire,
And the evenin' fa's gently on bonnie Strathyre.

Then there's mirth in the sheiling and love in my breast,
When the sun is gane doun and the kye are at rest;
For there's mony a prince wad be proud to aspire
To my winsome wee Maggie, the pride o' Strathyre.

Her lips are like rowans in ripe simmer seen,
And mild as the starlicht the glint o' her e'en;
Far sweeter her breath than the scent o' the briar,
And her voice is sweet music in bonnie Strathyre.

Set Flora by Colin, and Maggie by me,
And we'll dance to the pipes swellin' loudly and free,
Till the moon in the heavens climbing higher and higher
Bids us sleep on fresh brackens in bonnie Strathyre.

Though some in the touns o' the Lowlands seek fame,
And some will gang sodgerin' far from their hame;
Yet I'll aye herd my cattle, and bigg my ain byre,
And love my ain Maggie in bonnie Strathyre.

(Bonnie Strathyre)
Strathyre is Set between Callander and Lochearnhead in Perth shire. The valley is overshadowed by Ben Vorlich (3,224 ft)

BONNIE WEE THING

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine,
I would wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel I should tine.

Wistfully, I look and languish, In that bonnie face of thine.
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine.
I would wear thee in my bosom Lest my jewel I should tine.

Wit and grace and love and beauty In a constellation shine,
To adore thee is my duty Goddess o' this soul o' mine.

Wistfully I look and languish In that bonnie face of thine.
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, wer't thou mine.
I would wear thee in my bosom Lest my jewel I should tine.

(Bonnie Wee Thing)
Written by Robert Burns in praise of 'my little idol, the charming lovely Davies Disappointed in love, she died of a broken heart.

GRANNY'S HIELAN ' HAME

Chorus:

Where the heather bells are blooming just outside Granny's door,
Where as laddies there we played in the days of long ago.
Neath the shadow of Ben Bhragie and Golspie's loudly stane,
How I wished that I could see my Granny's Hielan' hame.

Away in the Hielands There stands a wee hoose,
And it stands on the breast of the brae.
Where we played as laddies Sae long long ago,
And it seems it was just yesterday.

Chorus: Where the heather bells etc.

I can still see old Granny, A smile on her face,
As sweet as the heather dew,
When she kissed me good-bye Wi' a tear in her eye,
And said, 'Laddie may God bless you'.

Chorus: Where the heather bells etc.

(Granny's Hieian' Hame)
The thatched cottage was the hub of the Scottish crofter's life. Still to be seen scattered about. but little , more than a museum piece today.

MARY OF ARGYLL

I have heard the mavis singing, His love song to the morn,
I have seen the dew drop clinging, To the rose just newly born.
But a sweeter song has cheer'd me, At the ev'ning's gentle close,
And I've seen an eye still brighter, Than the dew drop on the rose.
'Twas thy voice, my gentle Mary, And thine artless winning smile,
That made this world an Eden, Bonnie Mary of Argyll.

Tho' thy voice may lose its sweetness, And thine eye its brightness too,
Tho' thy step may lack its fleetness, And thy hair its sunny hue.
Still to me wilt thou be dearer, Than all the world shall own,
I have loved thee for thy beauty, But not for that alone.
I have watched thy heart, dear Mary, And its goodness was the wile,
That has made thee mine for ever, Bonnie Mary of Argyll.

(Mary of Argyil)
Written by two Englishmen, this song is as Scottish as any. The 'Mary' referred to is 'Highland Mary', beloved of Robert Burns. She died whilst still young.

LOCHNAGAR

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
In you let the minions of luxury rove,
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,
Round their white summits the elements war
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd,
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was my plaid.
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd
As daily I strode thro' the pine cover'd glade.
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star.
For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story,
Disclos'd by the natives of dark Lochnagar!

Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you!
Years must elapse ere I tread you again.
Though nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
England, thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roamed over mountains afar
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar.

(Lochnagar)
The song originated in a poem by Lord Byron in 1807. Part of Byron 's early life was spent near Loch na Garr, a Cairngorm rnountain of 3,777ft.

MY AIN FOLK

Far frae my hame I wander, but still my thoughts return
To my ain folk ower yonder, in the sheiling by the burn.
I see the cosy ingle, and the mist abune the brae:
And joy and sadness mingle, as I list some auld-warld lay.

And it's oh! but I'm longing for my ain folk,
Tho' they be but lowly, puir and plain folk'
I am far beyond the sea, but my heart will ever be
At home in dear auld Scotland, wi' my ain folk.

O' their absent ane they're telling The auld folk by the fire:
And I mark the swift tears welling As the ruddy flame leaps high'r.
How the mither wad caress me were I but by her side:
Now she prays that Heav'n will bless me, Tho' the stormy seas divide.

And it's oh! but I'm longing for my ain folk,
Tho' they be but lowly, puir and plain folk:
I am far beyond the sea, but my heart will ever be
At home in dear auld Scotland, wi' my ain folk.

(My Ain Folk)
Few emigrants there were in days gone by who did not yearn to be with loved ones left behind in Scotland, without hope of ever seeing them again.

MY LOVE IS LIKE A RED RED ROSE

O my love is like a red red rose, That's newly sprung in June.
O my love is like a melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I
And I will love thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry,
And I will love thee still my dear, Till a' the seas run dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun,
And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only love, And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my love Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile.

Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile, my love, Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile.
And I will come again, my love, Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile.

(My Love is Like a Red Red Rose)
The genius of Burns Is here for all who listen to the words of this song. it is made up of three old ballads which he adapted and to whIch he set the words

THE ROAD TO THE ISLES

A far croonin' is pullin' me away As take I wi' my cromak to the road. The far Coolins are puttin' love on me As step I wi' the sunlight for my load.

Chorus:
Sure, by Tummel and Loch Rannoch and Lochaber I will go.
By heather tracks wi' heaven in their wiles;
If it's thinkin' in your inner heart braggart's in my step,
You've never smelt the tangle o' the Isles.
Oh, the far Coolins are puttin' love on me.
As step I wi' my cromak to the lsles.

It's by Sheil water and track is to the west.
By Aillort and by Morar to the sea,
The cool cresses I am thinkin' o' for pluck,
And bracken for a wink on Mother knee.

Chorus: Sure, by Tummel etc.

It's the blue Islands are pullin' me away,
Their laughter puts the leap upon the lame,
The blue Islands from the Skerries to the Lews,
Wi' heather honey taste upon each name.

Chorus.- Sure, by Tummel etc.

(The Road to the Isles)
This marching song is a favourite wherever it is sung but especially on the road through the West HIghlands on the way to the Western isles.

THE ROAD AND THE MILES TO DUNDEE

Cauld winter was howlin' o'er moor and o'er mountain
And wild was the surge of the dark rolling sea,
When I met about daybreak a bonnie young lassie,
Wha asked me the road and the miles to Dundee.

Says 1, "My young lassie, I canna' weel tell ye
The road and the distance I canna' weel gie.
But if you'll permit me tae gang a wee bittie,
I'll show ye the road and the miles to Dundee".

At once she consented and gave me her arm,
Ne'er a word did 1 speir wha the lassie micht be,
She appeared like an angel in feature and form,
As she walked by my side on the road to Dundee.

At length wi' the Howe o' Strathmartine behind us,
The spires o' the toon in full view we could see,
She said "Gentle Sir, I can never forget ye
For showing me far on the road to Dundee".

I took the gowd pin from the scarf on my bosom -
And said "Keep ye this in remembrance o' me
Then bravely I kissed the sweet lips o' the lassie,
E'er I parted wi' her on the road to Dundee.

So here's to the lassie, I ne'er can forget her,
And lika young laddie that's list'rlihg to me,
O never be sweer to convoy a young lassie
Though it's only to show her the road to Dundee.

(The Road and the Miles to Dundee)
Love at first sight, fleeting but enduring, and eternalised in the words of the song.

SCOTLAND THE BRAVE

Hark when the night is falling Hear! hear the pipes are calling,
Loudly and proudly calling, Down thro' the glen.
There where the hills are sleeping, Now feel the blood a-leaping,
High as the spirits of the old Highland men.

Towering in gallant fame, Scotland my mountain hame,
High may your proud standards gloriously wave,
Land of my high endeavour, Land of the shining river,
Land of my heart for ever, Scotland the brave.

High in the misty Highlands, Out by the purple islands,
Brave are the hearts that beat Beneath Scottish skies.
Wild are the winds to meet you, Staunch are the friends that greet you,
Kind as the love that shines from fair maiden's eyes.

Towering in gallant fame etc.

Far off in sunlit places, Sad are the Scottish faces,
Yearning to feel the Kiss Of sweet Scottish rain.
Where tropic skies are beaming, Love sets the heart a-dreaming,
Longing and dreaming for the homeland again.

Towering in gallant fame etc.

(Scotland the Brave)
An ancient pipe tune and stirring words from the heart of Scotland.

SCOTS WHA HAE

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots wham Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed, Or to Victorie!
Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's pow'r Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw?
Freeman stand, or freeman fa'? Let him follow me!

By oppression's woes and pains! By your sons in servile chains! -
We will drain our dearest veins, -But they shall be free! -
Lay the proud usurper low! Tyrants fall in ev'ry foe!
Liberty's in ev'ry blow! Let us do or die!

(Scots Wha Hae)
The inspired words were written by Robert Burns. The song refers to the confrontation at Bannockburn in 1314 between Robert the Bruce and Edward Il of England when, under Bruce's leadership, Scotland regained her freedom.

UIST TRAMPING SONG

Come along, come along, Let us foot it out together,
Come along, come along, Be it fair or stonny weather,
With the hills of home before us And the purple of the heather,
Let us sing in happy chorus, Come along, come along.

O gaily sings the lark, And the sky's all awake
With the promise of the day, For the road we gladly take;
So it's heel and toe and forward, Bidding farewell to the town,
For the welcome that awaits us Ere the sun goes down.

Chorus: Come along, come along, etc.

It's the call of sea and shore, It's the tang of bog and peat,
And the scent of brier and myrtle That puts magic in our feet;
So it's on we go rejoicing, Over bracken, over stile,
And it's soon we will be tramping Out the last long mile.

Chorus: Come along, come along, etc.

(Uist Tramping Song)
Uist is part of the Outer Hebrides known as The Long island. With one hundred and ninety freshwater lochs in South Uist, it is a waIking and fishing paradise.

WESTERING HOME
Chorus..
And it's Westering home, and a song in the air,
Light in the eye, and it's goodbye to care.
Laughter o' love, and a welcoming there,
Isle of my heart, my own one.

Tell me o' lands o' the Orient gay,
Speak o' the riches and joys o' Cathay;
Eh, but it's grand to be wakin' ilk day
To find yourself nearer to Isla.

Chorus: And it's Westering home etc.

Where are the folk like the folk o' the west?
Canty, and couthy, and kindly, the best.
There I would hie me and there I would rest
At hame wi' my ain folk in Isla.

Chorus: And it's Westering home etc. -

(Westering Home)
Here we have an indication of the pull of the old Country on these who have left, and the joy of returning.

THE END OF THE ROAD

Ev'ry road thro' life is a long, long road, Fill'd with joys and sorrows too,
As you journey on how your heart will yearn For the things most dear to you.
With wealth and love 'tis so, But onward we must go.

Chorus:
Keep right on to the end of the road,
Keep right on to the end,
Tho' the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend.
Tho' you're tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode,
Where all the love you've been dreaming of
Will be there at the end of the road.

With a big stout heart to a long steep hill,
We may get there with a smile,
With a good kind thought and an end in view,
We may cut short many a mile.
So let courage ev'ry day
Be your guiding star alway.

Chorus: Keep right on etc.

(The End of the Road)
This inspiring song is probably the most popular of all --the songs ,written and sung by Sir Harry Lauder both at home and in the countries he toured abroad.

YE BANKS AND BRAES

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care?
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling birds, That wanton through the flow'ry thorn,
Ye mind me o' departed joys, Departed never to return.

Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; -
And ilka bird sang o' its love, And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, And my fause lover stole my rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

(Ye Banks and Braes)
Written by Robert Burns to commemorate the unrequited love of a young Ayrshlre lass for a local laird. The River Doune runs near where Burns was born in Alloway and Is featured in his famous tale of Tam o' Shanter. Burns was often to be seen walking by its banks, deep in thought.

THE WILD MOUNTAIN THYME

O the summer time has come
And the trees are sweetly blooming
And wild mountain thyme
Grows around the purple heather
Will you go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather
Will you go, lassie, go?

I will build my love a tower
By yon clear crystal fountain
And on it I will pile
All the flowers of the mountain
Will you go, lassie, go?

I will range through the wilds
And the deep land so dreary
and return with the spoils
to the bower o' my dearie
Will ye go lassie go ?

If my true love she'll not come
then I'll surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather

Will you go, lassie, go?

WILL YE NO' COME BACK AGAIN?

Bonnie Chairlie's noo awa', Safely ower the friendly main.
Mony a he'rt will break in twa, Should he ne 'er come back again.

Will ye no' come back again? Will ye no'come back again?
Better lo 'ed ye canna be, Will ye no'come back again?

Ye trusted in your Hielan' men, They trusted you dear Chairlie.
They kent your hidin' in the glen, Death or exile bravin'.

We watched thee in the gloamin' hour, We watched thee in the mornin' grey.
Tho' thirty thousand pounds they gie, o there is nane that wad betray.

Sweet the laverock' s note and lang, Liltin' wildly up the glen.
But aye tae me he sings ae sang, Will ye no' come back again?

BALLAD OF GLENCOE

Chorus
Oh, cruel was the snow that sweeps Glencoe
And covers the grave o' Donald
Oh, cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe
And murdered the house of MacDonald

They came in a blizzard, we offered them heat
A roof for their heads, dry shoes for their feet
We wined them and dined them, they ate of our meat
And they slept in the house of MacDonald

They came from Fort William with murder in mind
The Campbell had orders King William had signed
"Put all to the sword"- these words underlined
"And leave none alive called MacDonald"

They came in the night when the men were asleep
This band of Argyles, through snow soft and deep
Like murdering foxes amongst helpless sheep
They slaughtered the house of MacDonald

Some died in their beds at the hand of the foe
Some fled in the night and were lost in the snow
Some lived to accuse him who struck the first blow
But gone was the house of MacDonald

FLOWER 'O SCOTLAND

Oh Flower of Scotland,
When will we see your like again
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen

And stood against him,
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again

The hills are bare now,
And autumn leaves lie thick and still
O'er land that is lost now,
Which those so dearly held

That stood against him,
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again

Those days are past now
And in the past they must remain
But we can still rise now
And be the nation again

That stood against him
Proud Edward's army
And sent him homeward
To think again.

AULD LANG SYNE

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot And auld lang syne?

Chorus: For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne.

And surely, ye'll be your pint stowp! And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne.

Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

We twa hae mn about the braes And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin' auld lang syne.

Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

-We two hae paidled i' the burn, Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin' auld lang syne.

Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine;
And we'll tak' a right gude-willy waught, For auld lang syne.

Chorus: For auld lang syne, etc.

(Auld Lang Syne)
Described by Burns as 'a song of olden times, He wrote only two of the verses. The others are orIginal, passed down from singing parent to llstening child. Music was vital to Burns in capturing old songs and he taught himself to play the fiddle to enable him to pick out and record the tunes, which he did by noting down his fingering on paper. Many old folk-songs would have been lost to us. The handclasp in the last verse is the emblem of brotherhood amongst men. What other song commands such universal homage worldwide? What gathering would be considered properly wound up without the rendering of Auld Lang Syne as a finale? And who, with Scottish blood in their veins, would welcome in a New Year without it?

WEE DEOCH 'N DORIS

There's a good old Scottish custom that has stood the test o'time,
It's a custom that's been carried out in every land and clime.
When brother Scots are gathered, it's aye the usaul thing,
just before we say good night, we fill our cups and sing...

Just a wee deoch 'n doris, just a wee drop, that's all.
Just a wee deoch 'n doris afore ye gang awa.
There's a wee wife waitin' in a wee but an 'ten.
If you can say, "It's a brar bricht moonlicht nicht",
Then yer a'richt, ye ken.

Now I like a man that is a man; a man that's straight and fair.
The kind of man that will and can, in all things do his share.
Och, I like a man a jolly man, the kind of man, you know,
The chap that slaps your back and says, "Jock, just before ye go..."

Just a wee deoch 'n doris, just a wee drop, that's all.
Just a wee deoch 'n doris afore ye gang awa.
There's a wee wife waitin' in a wee but an 'ten.
If you can say, "It's a fine bright, moonlight night,"
Then you're all right, you know

Wee Deoch 'n Doris is Dedicated here to the memory of Douglas L. Wilson

SCOTTISH SOLDIER

There was a soldier, a Scottish soldier
who wandered far away and soldiered far away

there was none bolder, with good broad shoulders,
he fought in many a fray and fought and won

He's seen the glory, he's told the story
of battles glorious and deeds victorious

But now he's sighing his heart is crying
to leave these green hills of Tyroll

chorus

Because these green hills are not highland hills
or the Islands hills their not my lands hills,
as fair as these green foreign hills may be
they are not the hills of home..

And now this soldier, this Scottish soldier,
who wandered far away and soldiered far away

sees leaves are falling, and death is calling
and he will fade away, on that dark land

He called his piper, his trusty piper
and bade him sound away, a pibroch sad to play

upon a hillside but Scottish hillside
not on these green hills of Tyrol

chorus
Because these green....... etc

And now this soldier this Scottish soldier
who wanders far no more, and soldiers far no more

now on a hillside, a Scottish hillside
you'll see a piper play this soldier home

he's seen the glory, he's told the story
of battles glorious and deeds victorious

but he will cease now, he is at peace now
far from these green hills of Tyroll

chorus
Because these green....... etc

repeat chorus

RED RED ROSE

O my luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune

As fair art thou , my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
O I will luve thee still my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only luve!
And fare-thee-weel awhile!
And I will come again my luve,
Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile!

O my luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune

This song was originally written by a Lieutenant Hinches as a farewell to
his sweetheart and was reshaped and improved by Burns at a later date.

THE BANKS O' DOON

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart , thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn
Thou mids me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return

Oft hae I rov'd me bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' it's luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon it's thorny tree
And my fause luver staw my rose,
But ah! He left the thorn wi' me.

WHA'LL BE KING BUT CHARLIE?

The news frae Moidart cam' yestreen,
Will soon gar monie ferlie;
For ships o' war hae just came in,
And landit Royal Charlie.

Chorus
Come thro' the heather, aound him gather,
Ye're a' the welcomer early;
Around him cling wi' a' your kin;
For wha'll be King but Charlie?
Come thro' the heather, aound him gather,
Come Ronald come Donald, come a' thegither,
And crown your rightfu' lawfu' King!
For wha'll be King but Charlie?

The Hieland clans, wi' sword in hand,
Frae John o' Groats to Airlie,
Hae to a man declred to stand
Or fa' wi' royal Charlie.

Chorus
Come thro' the heather, aound him gather, etc.

The lowlands a', baith great an' sma,
Wi' mony a Lord and Laird, hae
Declar'd for Scotia's king an' law,
An speir ye wha but Charlie.

Chorus
Come thro' the heather, aound him gather, etc.

There's ne'er a lass in a' the lan'
But vows baith late an' early,
She'll ne'er to man gie her heart nor han',
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie.

Chorus
Come thro' the heather, aound him gather, etc.

Then there's a health to Charlies cause,
And be't complete an' early;
His very name our heart's blood warms;
To arms for Royal Charlie!

Chorus
Come thro' the heather, aound him gather, etc.

The authorship of this 'call to arms' for Charlie was unclear for some time,
but it is now attributed to Lady Nairne.

FOR A' THAT

Is there, for honest poverty
That hangs his head, and a' that
The coward-slave, we pass him by-
We dare be poor for a' that,
for a' that, and a' that
Our toils obscure , and a' that,
The rank is but the the guinea's stamp-
The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine-
Wear hoddin grey, and a' that?
Gie fools their skills, and knaves their wine-
A man's a man for a' that
For a' that and a' that
Their tinsel show and a' that;
The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts and stares for a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that and a' that,
His ribband, star and a' that;
The man of independendant mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.

A Prince can mak' a belted Knight,
A marquis, duke and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith he mauna fa' that!
For a' that and a' that,
Their dignities and a' that;
The pith o' sense and pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
as come it will for a' that,
That sense and worth, oe'r a' the earth,
May bear the gree and a' that:
For a' that and a' that,
it's coming yet for a' that
That man to man the warls o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that!

Robert Burns was not a revolutionary in the true sense of the word,
but he might seen as such by the society he ridicules in this satirical, written in 1795 shortly before he died

CULLODENS HARVEST

Cold winds on the moors blow.
Warm the enemy?s fires glow.
Like the harvest of Culloden,
Pain and fear and death grow.

Twas love of our prince drove us to Drumossie,
But in scarcely the time that it takes me to tell
The flower of our country lay scorched by an army
As ruthless and red as the embers of hell.

Cold winds on the moors blow.
Warm the enemy?s fires glow.
Like the harvest of Culloden,
Pain and fear and death grow.

The Campbell and McFall did the work of the English.
McDonald in anger did no work at all.
Twas musket and cannon against honor and courage.
Invader?s men stood while our clansmen did fall.

Cold winds on the moors blow.
Warm the enemy?s fires glow.
Like the harvest of Culloden,
Pain and fear and death grow.

None other than children are left to the women,
With only the memory of father and son --
Turned out of their homes to make shelter for strangers.
The blackest of hours on this land has begun.

Cold winds on the moors blow
Warm the enemy?s fires glow
Like the harvest of Culloden,
Pain and fear and death grow.

supplied by Terri Cameron Illinois

100 PIPERS

Wi' a hundred pipers, a' a', an' a',
Wi' a hundred pipers, a' a', an' a',
We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw
Wi' a hundred pipers, a' a', an' a'.
O it's owre the border awa', awa'
It's owre the border awa', awa',
We'll on an' we'll march to Carlisle ha'
Wi' its yetts, its castle an' a', an a'.

cho: Wi' a hundred pipers, a' a', an' a',
Wi' a hundred pipers, a' a', an' a',
We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw
Wi' a hundred pipers, a' a', an' a'.

Oh! our sodger lads looked braw, looked braw,
Wi' their tartan kilts an' a', an' a',
Wi' their bonnets an' feathers an' glitt'rin' gear,
An' pibrochs sounding loud and clear.
Will they a' return to their ain dear glen?
Will they a' return oor Heilan' men?
Second sichted Sandy looked fu' wae.
An' mithers grat when they march'd away.

cho:

Oh! wha' is foremos o' a', o' a',
Oh wha' is foremost o' a', o' a',
Bonnie Charlie the King o' us a', hurrah!
Wi' his hundred pipers an' a', an ' a'.
His bonnet and feathers he's waving high,
His prancing steed maist seems to fly,
The nor' win' plays wi' his curly hair,
While the pipers play wi'an unco flare.

cho:

The Esk was swollen sae red an' sae deep,
But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep;
Twa thousand swam owre to fell English ground
An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
Dumfoun'er'd the English saw, they saw,
Dumfoun'er'd they heard the blaw, the blaw,
Dumfoun'er'd they a' ran awa', awa',
Frae the hundred pipers an' a', an ' a'.

cho:

HTML line breaks added. Not perfectly, perhaps, but it's better than it was before. --JoeClone, 27-Apr-03.