The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #164711 Message #3949619
Posted By: Big Al Whittle
11-Sep-18 - 06:11 AM
Thread Name: UK Folk Revival 2018
Subject: RE: UK Folk Revival 2018
Freedom Come All Ye Original Scots Lyrics by Hamish Henderson, this version by Gordon Hudson
Rough's the wind in the clear day's dawning Blows the clouds head-oer-heel across the bay But there's more than a rough wind blowing Through the Great Glen of the world today It's a thought that would make our vermin All those rogues who strut and swagger without care Take the road and seek other lodgings With their vile schemes to sport and play
No more will our fine lads be commanded to march to war at a braggarts call Nor wee weans from pitheads and clachans Mourn the ships sailing down the Broomielaw Broken families in lands we've vanquished Will curse "Scotland the Brave", nae mair, nae mair Black and white to one another married Will make the slums of their masters bare
So come all ye at home with freedom Never heed those prophets of doom In your house all the bairns of Adam Will find bread, drink and painted rooms When Maclean meets with friends in Springburn All the rose and cherry trees will turn to bloom And the black lad from Nyanga Will break the powers of his masters doon.
Roch the wind in the clear day's dawin Blaws the cloods heilster-gowdie owre the bay But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin Thro the Great Glen o the warld the day It's a thocht that wad gar oor rottans Aa thae rogues that gang gallus fresh an gay Tak the road an seek ither loanins Wi thair ill-ploys tae sport an play
Nae mair will our bonnie callants Merch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw Nor wee weans frae pitheid an clachan Mourn the ships sailin doun the Broomielaw Broken faimlies in lands we've hairriet Will curse 'Scotlan the Brave' nae mair, nae mair Black an white ane-til-ither mairriet Mak the vile barracks o thair maisters bare
Sae come aa ye at hame wi freedom Never heed whit the houdies croak for Doom In yer hoos aa the bairns o Adam Will find breid, barley-bree an paintit rooms When Maclean meets wi's friens in Springburn Aa thae roses an geans will turn tae blume An the black lad frae yont Nyanga Dings the fell gallows o the burghers doun.