Iona Boat Song

This song was used when the Kings of Scotland were being 

taken over by boat from Fort William to Iona for burial.

Softly glide we along, Softly chant we our song,

For a king who to resting is come;

Oh, beloved and best, Thou art fairing out west,

To the dear isle Iona, thy home.

Calmly there shalt thou lie, With thy fathers gone by,

Their blood mingled deep with thine own;

Ne'er again to awake, Till the last morn shall break,

And the trump of the judgement is blown.

PLUS THE BONUS

Iona Abbey

-o0o-

A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk 

Words by Robert Burns

A rose-bud, by my early walk 

Adown a corn-enclosèd bawk, 

Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, 

All on a dewy morning. 

Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, 

In a' its crimson glory spread, 

And drooping rich the dewy head, 

It scents the early morning.

Within the bush her covert nest 

A little linnet fondly prest; 

The dew sat chilly on her breast, 

Sae early in the morning. 

She soon shall see her tender brood, 

The pride, the pleasure o' the wood, 

Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd, 

Awauk the early morning.

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair, 

On trembling string or vocal air, 

Shall sweetly pay the tender care 

That tents thy early morning! 

So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay, 

Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day, 

And bless the parent's evening ray 

That watch'd thy early morning!

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

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?

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

A Gordon for Me

Words by Robert Wilson

I'm Geordie MacKay of the HLI. 

I'm fond of the lassies and a drappie forbye, 

One day when out walking I chanced to see, 

A bonnie wee lass wi' a glint in her ee' 

Says I to the lassie "Will you walk for a while? 

I'll buy you a bonnet and we'll do it in style, 

My kilt is Mackenzie o' the HLI." 

She look'd at me shyly and said wi' a sigh.

A Gordon for me, a Gordon for me, 

If ye're no a Gordon ye're no use to me. 

The Black Watch are braw, the Seaforths and a' 

But the cocky wee Gordon's the pride o' them a'.

I courted that girl on the banks of the Dee, 

I made up my mind she was fashioned for me, 

Soon I was a' thinking how nice it would be 

If she would consent to get married to me.  

The day we were wed, the grass was so green, 

The sun was as bright as the light in her 'een, 

Now we've two bonnie lassies who sit on her knee, 

While she sings the song she once sang to me.

A Gordon for me, a Gordon for me, 

If ye're no a Gordon ye're no use to me. 

The Black Watch are braw, the Seaforths and a' 

But the cocky wee Gordon's the pride o' them a'.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

Fitba' Crazy

You all know my big brither Jock 

   His right name’s Johnny Shaw. 

Last week he jined a fitba’ club 

   For he’s mad about fitba’. 

He’s got two black eyes already, 

   An’ teeth oot by the root, 

Since Jock’s face came in contact 

   Wi another fella’s boot.

The first game he took part in, 

   I wis there masel’ an’ saw, 

There were twa half bricks fae goalposts, 

   An’ a tin can for the ba’. 

The Prince of Wales wis present, 

   Wi’ lords ‘n’ ladies grand - 

Oor Jock he got an egg box, 

   An’ he made a big grandstand.

Oh all the fitba’ teams hiv afloat, 

   He swears they are the prime. 

An’ you want tae hear him bounce aboot 

   Their beatin’ record time. 

They’ve challenged every ither side 

   Nane ‘ill tak’ them up, 

Since they beat the Blind Asylum 

   Fir a leather plated cup.

His wife she says she’ll leave him, 

   If he disnae keep 

Away frae playin’ fitba’. 

   At night time in his sleep, 

He ca’s her Pat McGinty, 

   An’ ither names sae droll. 

Last night he kicked her oot the bed - 

   An’ swore it wis a goal!

'Cause he’s fitba’ crazy, 

He’s fitba’ mad. 

The fitba it has ta’en away 

The wee bit sense he had. 

And it wid take a dozen servants 

His claes tae wash and scrub, 

Since Jock became a member o’ 

That terrible fitba’ club.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen

When I was a lad, a tiny wee lad, my mother said to me, 

"Come see the Northern Lights my boy, they're bright as they can be." 

She called them the heavenly dancers, merry dancers in the sky, 

I'll never forget that wonderful sight, they made the heavens bright.

I've wandered in many far-off lands, and travelled many a mile, 

I've missed the folk I've cherished most, the joy of a friendly smile. 

It warms up the heart of the wand'rer the clasp of a welcoming hand. 

To greet me when I return, home to my native land.

The Northern Lights of Aberdeen are what I long to see; 

The Northern Lights of Aberdeen, that's where I long to be. 

I've been a wand'rer all of my life and many a sight I've seen. 

God speed the day when I'm on my way to my home in Aberdeen.

PLUS THE BONUS

A spectacular photo from Aberdeen

-o0o-

Mingulay Boat Song

Heel y'ho boys, let her go, boys 

Bring her head round now all together 

Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys 

Sailing homeward to Mingulay!

What care we tho' white the sea is 

What care we for wind and weather? 

Let her go boys, every inch is 

Wearing homeward to Mingulay!

Wives are waiting on the bank, boys, 

Looking seaward from the heather. 

Pull her 'round boys, and we'll anchor 

'Ere the sun sets at Mingulay!

Heel y'ho boys, let her go, boys 

Bring her head round now all together 

Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys 

Sailing homeward to Mingulay!

PLUS THE BONUS

Mingulay

-o0o-

Tobermory Bay

I'm yearning for my Hebridean island, 
The mountains there are heather sweet today. 
It may be just because my heart is Highland 
I long for Mull and Tobermory Bay.

The fishing boats, the nip of Autumn weather. 
The spindrift, the excitement of the fray, 
The toil of hauling in the nets together, 
Then homing back to Tobermory Bay.

Down here I feel I'm not belonging rightly, 
The Lowlands are attractive in their way. 
But all the same my mind is anchored tightly 
To sunrise over Tobermory Bay.

To kindly folk too honest to deceive me, 
I'd guarantee their goodness any day. 
Their Highland hearts are truer gold believe me, 
Than all the gold in Tobermory Bay.

The birds need only lift their wings and wander, 
I wish I were as fortunate as they. 
If I had wings to spread I'd fly them yonder, 
And settle down by Tobermory Bay.

My dream of Mull grows stronger still and stronger, 
So strong it is I dare not disobey. 
It's home for me, I can indeed no longer 
Resist the call of Tobermory Bay.

PLUS THE BONUS

Tobermory

-o0o-

Come Owre the Stream

Words by James Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd

Come owre the stream Charlie, 

Dear Charlie, brave Charlie, 

Come owre the stream Charlie, 

And dine wi' MacLean; 

And though you be weary 

We'll mak' your heart cheery, 

And welcome our Charlie; 

And his loyal train.

We'll bring down the track dear 

We'll bring down the black steer, 

The lamb from the brecken 

And doe from the glen. 

The salt sea we'll harry, 

And bring to oor Charlie, 

The cream from the bothy 

And curd from the pen.

And you shall drink freely 

The dews of Glen Sheerly 

That stream in the starlight 

When kings dinna ken; 

And deep be your meed 

O' the wine that is red, 

To drink to your sire 

And his frien' the MacLean.

If aught will invite you, 

Or more will delight you 

'Tis ready a troop 

Of oor bold Hieland men 

Shall range on the heather 

Wi' bonnet and feather, 

Strong arms and broad claymores, 

Three hundred and ten.

Come owre the stream Charlie, 

Dear Charlie, brave Charlie, 

Come owre the stream Charlie, 

And dine wi' MacLean; 

And though you be weary 

We'll mak' your heart cheery, 

And welcome our Charlie; 

And his loyal train.

PLUS THE BONUS

Culzean Castle

-o0o-

Following Saturday's post, it was pointed out to me that there's another song which uses the same tune as "The Bluebell of Scotland." and this is it.

Where is your Highland Laddie gone?

Oh where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone? 

Oh where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone? 

He's gone wi' streaming banners where noble deeds are done, 

And it's oh, in my heart I wish him safe at home.

Oh where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie dwell? 

Oh where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie dwell? 

He dwelt in Bonnie Scotland, where blooms the sweet blue bell, 

And it's oh, in my heart I lo'ed my laddie well.

Oh what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear? 

Oh what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear? 

A bonnet with a lofty plume, and on his breast a plaid, 

And it's oh, in my heart I lo'ed my Highland lad.

Oh what, tell me what, if your Highland laddie is slain? 

Oh what, tell me what, if your Highland laddie is slain? 

Oh no, true love will be his guard and bring him safe again, 

For it's oh, my heart would break if my Highland lad were slain.

PLUS THE BONUS

Inverness

-o0o-

The Dark Island

Words by David Silver

Away to the west's where I'm longing to be, 

Where the beauties of heaven unfold by the sea, 

Where the sweet purple heather blooms fragrant and free, 

On a hilltop high above the Dark Island.

So gentle the sea breeze that ripples the bay, 

Where the stream joins the ocean, and young children play; 

On the strand of pure silver, I'll welcome each day, 

And I'll roam for ever more the Dark Island.

True gem of the Hebrides, bathed in the light 

Of the midsummer dawning that follows the night 

How I yearn for the cries of the seagulls in flight. 

As they circle high above the Dark Island

Oh, isle of my childhood, I'm dreaming of thee, 

As the steamer leaves Oban and passes Tiree, 

Soon I'll capture the magic that lingers for me, 

When I'm back once more upon the Dark Island.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

The Bluebell of Scotland

The rose, summer's emblem,

'Tis England's chosen tree

And France decks her shield

With the stately Fleur-de-lis,

But brighter, fairer far than these

There blooms a flower for me,

Tis the Bluebell, the Bluebell

On Scotland's grassy lea

Where from the dark, up springs the lark

The rising sun to see!

My land! native land!

Where afar my steps have been,

Blue skies charm the eyes,

And the earth is ever green.

Yet dwelt my heart 'mid Scotland's glens,

Where aye in thought was seen,

The Bluebell, the Bluebell,

Amid the bracken green,

And brighter far than sun or star,

The eyes of bonnie Jean!

The Thistle, Scotland's badge

Up from Freedom's soil it grew,

Her foes aye found it hedg'd round

With rosemarie and rue.

And, emblem that her daughters were modest, leal, and true,

From off the rocks, to deck their locks,

They pluck'd the Bell of Blue!

The Heathbell, the Harebell,

Old Scotland's Bell of Blue!

PLUS THE BONUS

A Field of Bluebells

-o0o-

Down in the Glen

Words by Harry Gordon and Tommie Connor

Twilight is softly falling as the sun sinks in the West, 

The one I love is calling, "Shepherd, come home to rest."

At hush of even-tide, 

O'er the hills beyond the Clyde, 

I go roaming to my heaven, 

Down in the glen.

Though humble it may be, 

There an angel waits for me, 

In that lonely little heaven, 

Down in the glen.

Across the moonlit heather, 

My lassie calls as I roam, 

'Tis soon we'll be together 

In that heaven we call home.

The sheep are in the fold, 

And there's peace worth more than gold, 

For that shepherd in that heaven, 

Down in the glen.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

I Belong to Glasgow

written by Will Fyfe

I've been wi' a couple o' cronies, 

One or two pals o' my ain; 

We went intae a hotel, and we did very well, 

And then we came out once again; 

Then we went into anither, 

And that is the reason I'm fu'; 

We had six deoch-an-doruses, then sang a chorus, 

Just listen, I'll sing it to you:

I belong to Glasgow, 

Dear old Glasgow toon; 

But what's the matter wi' Glasgow, 

For it's goin' roon' and roon'! 

I'm only a common old working chap, 

As anyone here can see, 

But when I get a couple o' drinks on a Seturday, 

Glasgow belongs to me!

There's nothing in keeping your money,

And saving a shilling or two; 

If you've nothing to spend, then you've nothing to lend, 

Why that's all the better for you! 

There nae harm in taking a drappie, 

It ends all your trouble and strife; 

It gives ye the feeling that when you get home, 

You don't give a hang for the wife!

I belong to Glasgow, 

Dear old Glasgow toon; 

But what's the matter wi' Glasgow, 

For it's goin' roon' and roon'! 

I'm only a common old working chap, 

As anyone here can see, 

But when I get a couple o' drinks on a Seturday, 

Glasgow belongs to me!

PLUS THE BONUS

The University of Glasgow

-o0o-

Up in the Mornin' Early

The chorus which starts and concludes this item is traditional, but Robert Burns added the two verses.

Up in the morning 's no' for me, 

Up in the morning early! 

When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, 

I'm sure it's winter fairly!

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, 

The drift is driving sairly; 

Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast - 

I'm sure it's winter fairly!

The birds sit chittering in the thorn, 

A' day they fare but sparely; 

And lang's the night frae e'en to morn - 

I'm sure it's winter fairly!

Up in the morning 's no' for me, 

Up in the morning early! 

When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, 

I'm sure it's winter fairly!

Tam O' Shanter and the Witches

John Faed's illustration of Robert Burns' famous poem

-o0o-

Màiri's Wedding

Step we gaily, on we go

Heel for heel and toe for toe,

Arm in arm and row on row

All for Màiri's wedding.

Over hillways up and down

Myrtle green and bracken brown,

Past the shieling through the town

All for sake of Màiri.

Plenty herring, plenty meal

Plenty peat to fill her creel,

Plenty bonnie bairns as weel

That's the toast for Màiri.

Cheeks as bright as rowans are

Brighter far than any star,

Fairest of them all by far

Is my darling Màiri.

Step we gaily, on we go

Heel for heel and toe for toe,

Arm in arm and row on row,

All for Màiri's wedding.

PLUS THE BONUS

The Palace of Holyrood House, Edinburgh

-o0o-

Bonnie Wee Jeanie McCall

A fine wee lass, a bonnie wee lass, is bonnie wee Jeannie McColl; 

I gave her my mother's engagement ring and a bonnie wee tartan shawl. 

I met her at a waddin' in the Co-operative Hall 

I wis the best man and she was the belle of the ball.

The first nicht I courted her, she was awfy, awfy shy, 

The rain cam' pourin' doon, but she was happy, so was I. 

We ran like mad for shelter, an' we landed up a stair, 

The rain cam' poorin' oot o' ma breeks, but och I didna care.

Noo I've wad my Jeannie, an' bairnies we have three, 

Two dochters and a braw wee lad, that sits upon my knee. 

They're richt wee holy terrors, an' they're never still for lang, 

But they sit an' listen every nicht, while I sing to them this sang: 

A fine wee lass, a bonnie wee lass, is bonnie wee Jeannie McColl; 

I gave her my mother's engagement ring and a bonnie wee tartan shawl. 

I met her at a waddin' in the Co-operative Hall 

I wis the best man and she was the belle of the ball.

PLUS THE BONUS

Armadale

The new blog

RENOIR AND THE IMPRESSIONISTS

is now online

renoirandtheimpressionists.blogspot.com

-o0o-

Old Scotch Mother Mine

words by Ray McKay and Joseph Maxwell

In an old Scottish home that is dear to my mind 
Lives an old Scottish mother, so gentle and kind. 
Trouble and care may have wrinkled her brow, 
But with thoughts sweet and tender, I think of her now.

Old Scotch mother mine, you are with me all the while, 
Your kind old eyes and your dear sweet smile.
Tho' we're far apart, for the sake of Auld Lang Syne - 
God bless and keep you, old Scotch mother mine.

PLUS THE BONUS

Crag at Neist Point, Skye

The new blog begins tomorrow
RENOIR AND THE IMPRESSIONISTS
renoirandtheimpressionists.blogspot.com

-o0o-

Annie Laurie

written by William Douglas and amended by Lady John Scott

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 e'e, 

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.

PLUS THE BONUS

The Loup of Fintry

The new blog

Renoir and The Impressionists

begins on Monday

renoirandtheimpressionists.blogspot.com

-o0o-

Johnny Lad

I bought a wife in Edinburgh for a bawbee. 

I got a farthing back again tae buy tobacco wi'.

And wi' you and wi' you and wi' you, Johnny Lad. 

I'll dance the buckles off my shoon 

Wi' you, my Johnny Lad.

As I was walking early I chanced to see the Queen, 

She was playing at the fitba' wi' the lads in Glasgow Green.

The captain o' the ither side was scoring wi' great style, 

So the Queen she cried a polisman and she clapped him in the jile.

Noo Samson was a michty man. He focht wl' cuddies' jaws 

And he won a score o' battles wearing crimson flannel drawers.

There was a man o' Nineveh and he was wondrous wise. 

He louped intae a bramble bush and scratched oot baith his eyes.

And when he saw his eyes wis oot he wis gey troubled then 

So he louped intae anither bush and scratched them in again.

Noo Johnny is a bonny lad, he is a lad o' mine. 

I've never had a better lad and I've had twenty-nine.

And wi' you and wi' you and wi' you Johnny Lad. 

I'll dance the buckles off my shoon 

Wi' you, my Johnny Lad.

PLUS THE BONUS

Inveraray Castle

A new blog 
RENOIR AND THE IMPRESSIONISTS
begins on Monday 15th January
renoirandtheimpressionists.blogspot.com

-o0o-

Bonnie Wee Thing

Words by Robert Burns

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, 

Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine, 

I wad 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.

Wit and Grace and Love and Beauty 

In ae constellation shine! 

To adore thee is my duty 

Goddess o' this soul o' mine!

Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing, 

Lovely wee thing wer't thou mine, 

I wad wear thee in my bosom, 

Lest my jewel I should tine.

PLUS THE BONUS

Autumn - Aberfoyle

-o0o-

The Road to the Isles

It's the far Cuillins that are pullin' me away, 

As take I wi' my cromak to the road. 

The far Cuillins are puttin' love on me, 

As step I wi' the sunlight for my load.

It's by Shiel water the track is to the west, 

By Aillort and by Morar to the sea. 

The cool cresses I am thinkin' of for pluck, 

And bracken for a wink on Mother's knee.

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.

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, the braggart's in my step, 

You've never smelled the tangle o' the Isles. 

Oh the far Cuillins are puttin' love on me, 

As step I wi' my cromak to the Isles.

PLUS THE BONUS

Loch Rannoch

-o0o-

Black is the Colour of My True Love's Hair

But Black is the colour of my true love's hair. 

His face is like some rosy fair, 

The prettiest face and the neatest hands, 

I love the ground whereon he stands.

I love my love and well he knows, 

I love the ground whereon he goes, 

If you no more on earth I see, 

I can't serve you as you have me.

The winter's passed and the leaves are green, 

The time is passed that we have seen, 

But still I hope the time will come 

When you and I shall be as one.

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep, 

But satisfied I never could sleep. 

I'll write to you a few short lines, 

I'll suffer death ten thousand times.

So fare you well, my own true love 

The time has passed, but I wish you well. 

But still I hope the time will come 

When you and I will be as one.

I love my love and well he knows, 

I love the ground whereon he goes. 

The prettiest face, the neatest hands, 

I love the ground whereon he stands.

PLUS THE BONUS

Dean Village, Edinburgh

-o0o-