Today's post brings the series to an end

-o0o-

Bonnie Scotland I adore thee

Bonnie Scotland I adore thee, 

Now I wander gladly o'er thee, 

Thy enchantment will restore me, 

Bonnie, Bonnie Scotland.

Mid the rays of summer weather, 

Sweetly blooms thy mountain heather, 

Love and beauty sport together, 

Bonnie, Bonnie Scotland.

Bonnie Scotland, land of grandeur, 

Where the sparkling streams meander, 

Here will I delight to wander, 

Bonnie, Bonnie Scotland.

Thou art dearest to me ever, 

From my bosom banish'd never, 

Ne'er again we hope to sever, 

Bonnie, Bonnie Scotland.

PLUS THE BONUS

Eilean Donan Castle

-o0o-

Sing Me a Song of Bonnie Scotland
comes to an end on Friday
-o0o-

Broom of Cowdenknowes

How blithe each morn was I tae see 

My lass came o'er the hill. 

She skipped the burn and ran tae me, 

I met her with good will.

O the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom 

The broom o' the cowdenknowes. 

Fain would I be in the north country 

Herding her father's ewes.

We neither herded ewes nor lamb 

While the flock near us lay. 

She gathered in the sheep at night 

And cheered me all the day.

Hard fate that I should banished be 

Gone way o'er hill and moor, 

Because I loved the fairest lass 

That ever yet was born.

Adieu, ye cowdenknowes, adieu. 

Farewell all pleasures there 

To wander by her side again 

Is all I crave or care.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

The Birks of Aberfeldie

Words by Robert Burns

Bonnie lassie, will ye go, 

Will ye go, will ye go, 

Bonnie lassie, will ye go 

To the birks of Aberfeldie?

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, 

And o'er the crystal streamlet plays; 

Come, let us spend the lightsome days, 

In the birks of Aberfeldie!

The little birdies blithely sing, 

While o'er their heads the hazels hing; 

Or lightly flit on wanton wing 

In the birks of Aberfeldie!

The braes ascend like lofty wa's, 

The foaming stream, deep-roaring, fa's, 

O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws, 

The birks of Aberfeldie.

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, 

White o'er the linns the burnie pours, 

And, rising, weets wi' misty showers 

The birks of Aberfeldie.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee, 

They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me; 

Supremely blest wi' love and thee 

In the birks of Aberfeldie.

Bonnie lassie, will ye go, 

Will ye go, will ye go, 

Bonnie lassie, will ye go 

To the birks of Aberfeldie?

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

Rothesay Bay

Fu' yellow lie the cornrigs, fat down the braid hillside; 

It is the brawest har'st field, alang the shores o' Clyde, 

And I'm a puir har'st lassie wha stands the lee lang day - 

Amang the cornrigs of Ardbeg, aboon sweet Rothesay Bay.

O I had ance a true love, now I hae nane ava; 

And I had three braw brithers, but I hae *tint them a'. 

My faither and my mither sleep i' the +mools this day - 

I sit my lane amang the rigs, aboon sweet Rothesay Bay.

It's a bonnie bay at morning, and bonnier at noon, 

But bonniest when the sun draps and red comes up the moon. 

When the mist creeps o'er the Cumbraes and Arran peaks are gray, 

And the great black hills, like sleeping kings, sit grand roun' Rothesay Bay.

Then a bit sigh stirs my bosom, and wee tear blin's my e'e, 

And I think of that far countrie wha I wad like to be. 

But I rise content i' the morning to wark while I may - 

I' the yellow har'st field of Ardbeg, aboon sweet Rothesay Bay.

*lost

+earth

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

Be Kind tae Auld Grannie

Words by Archibald Mackay

Be kind tae auld grannie, for noo she is frail, 

As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale. 

When ye were bairnies tott, totting about, 

She watch'd ye when in, and she watched ye when out; 

And aye when ye chanc'd in your daffin and fun, 

To dunt your wee head on the cauld stanney grun', 

She lifted ye up and she kiss'd ye fu' fain, 

Till a' your bit cares were forgotten again. 

Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail, 

As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.

When first in your breasts rose that feeling divine, 

That's wak'd by the tales and the sangs o' lang syne, 

Wi' auld-warld cracks she would pleasure inspire, 

In the lang winter nights as she sat by the fire; 

Or melt your young hearts wi' some sweet Scottish lay, 

Like "Flow'rs o' the Forest" or "Auld Robbie Gray"; 

Though eerie the win' blew around our bit cot, 

Grim winter and a' its wild blasts were forgot; 

Then be kind tae auld grannie, for noo she is frail, 

As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.

And mind though the blythe day o' youth is noo yours, 

Time will wither its joys, as wild winter the flow'rs; 

And your step that's noo licht as the bound o' the roe, 

Wi' cheerless auld age may be feeble and slow; 

And the frien's o' your youth to the grave may be gane, 

And ye on its brink may be tott'ring alane; 

Oh, think how consoling some frien' would be then, 

When the gloaming o' life comes like mist o'er the glen; 

Then be kind tae auld grannie, for noo she is frail, 

As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.

PLUS THE BONUS

This is the small island of St. Kilda.

The entire population of the island was evacuated in 1930.

-o=0=o-

Caller Herrin'
Words by Lady Nairne

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? 
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin'; 
Wha'll buy my caller herrin', 
New drawn frae the Forth?

When ye were sleepin' on your pillows, 
Dream'd ye aught o' our puir fellows, 
Darkling as they fac'd the billows, 
A' to fill the woven willows? 

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? 
They're no brought here without brave darin'; 
Buy my caller herrin', 
Haul'd through wind and rain.

WhaIl buy my caller herrin'? 
Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin' 
Wives and mithers, maist despairin', 
Ca' them lives o' men.

When the creel o' herrin' passes, 
Ladies-clad in silks and laces, 
Gather in their braw pelisses, 
Cast their heads and screw their faces,

Caller herrin's no got lightlie: 
Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie; 
Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin', 
*Gow had set you a' a-singing

Neebour wives, now tent my tellin'; 
When the bonnie fish ye're sellin', 
At ae word be in yere dealin' - 
Truth will stand when a' thin's failin',

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? 
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin'; 
Wha'll buy my caller herrin', 
New drawn frae the Forth?

*Neil Gow, the fiddle player

-o0o-

Ca' the Yowes to the Knowes
(call the ewes to the hills)
Words by Robert Burns

Ca' the yowes to the knowes, 

Ca' them where the heather grows, 

Ca' them where the burnie rowes, 

My bonnie dearie.

Hark, the mavis e'ening sang 

Sounding Clouden's woods amang 

Then a-faulding let us gang. 

My bonnie dearie.

We'll gae down by Clouden side, 

Thro the hazels, spreading wide 

O'er the waves that sweetly glide 

To the moon sae clearly.

Yonder Clouden's silent towers 

Where, at moonshine's midnight hours, 

O'er the dewy bending flowers 

Fairies dance sae cheery.

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear 

Thou'rt to Love and Heav'n sae dear 

Nocht of ill may come thee near, 

My bonnie dearie.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

Come by the Hills

Words by W. Gordon Smith

Come by the hills to a land where fancy is free,

And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs reach the sea;

Where the rivers run clear, and the bracken is gold in the sun,

And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where life is a song;

And sing while the birds fill the air with their joy all day long

Where the trees sway in time, and even the wind sings in tune;

And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where legend remains;

Where glories of old stir the heart and may yet come again;

Where our past has been lost and the future has still to be won;

And cares of tomorrow must wait till this day is done.

PLUS THE BONUS

The hills at Callander

-o0o-

The Bonnie Earl Of Moray

Ye Hielan's an' ye Lowlan's 

O, where have ye been? 

They hae slain the Earl of Moray 

And lain him on the green. 

He was a braw gallant 

And he rode at the ring. 

An' the bonnie Earl of Moray 

O, he micht hae been the king! 

O, lang may his lady 

Look frae the castle Doune, 

Ere she see the Earl of Moray 

Come soundin' through the toun.

Now way be to thee, Huntly 

And wherefore did ye sae? 

I bade you bring him wi' you 

But forbade you him to slay. 

He was a braw gallant 

And he play'd at the ball 

An' the Bonnie Earl of Moray 

Was a flower among them all. 

Lang may his lady 

Look from the Castle Doune, 

Ere she see the Earl of Moray 

Come soundin' through the toun.

Ye Hielan's and ye Lowlan's 

O where hae ye been? 

They have slain the Earl of Moray 

An' laid him on the green. 

He was a braw gallant 

And he rode at the gluve 

An' the Bonnie Earl of Moray 

O, he was the Queens' true love. 

Lang will his lady 

Look frae the Castle Doune, 

Ere she see the Earl of Moray 

Come soundin' through the toun.

PLUS THE BONUS

Doune Castle

-o0o-

Dark Lochnagar

Words by Lord Byron

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 tho' 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 the 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.

PLUS THE BONUS

Lochnagar or Beinn Chìochan is a mountain in the Grampians 

Photo by Bruce McAdam

-o0o-

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 

0' 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.

PLUS THE BONUS

Glenfinnan

-o0o-

The Lum Hat Wantin' The Croon

Words by David Rorie

(Some of the more unusual words are explained below)

The burn was big wi' spate 

And there cam tumblin' doon, 

Topsalterie, the half of a gate 

An auld fish-hake, and a great muckle skate, 

And a lum hat wantin' th' croon.

The auld wife stood on th' bank, 

As they gied swirlin' roon, 

She took a guid look, and syne says she, 

"There's food and there's firin' gaen tae th' sea, 

And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!"

So she gruppit th' branch of a saugh, 

And she kickit off ane of her shoon, 

An' she stuck oot her fit, but it caught in the gate, 

An' awa' she went wi' th' great muckle skate, 

An' a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

She floated fu' many a mile, 

Past cottage and village and toon, 

She'd an awfu' time astride of the gate, 

Though it seemed t'gree fine wi' th' great muckle skate, 

And the lum hat wantin' th' croon!

A fisher was waukin' th' deck, 

By the licht of his pipe and th' moon, 

When he sees an auld body astride of a gate, 

Come bobbin' along in the waves wi' a skate, 

And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

"There's a man overboard!" cries he, 

"Ye hear?" quo she, "I'll droon! 

A man overboard? It's a wife on a gate! 

It's auld Mistress Mackintosh here wi' a skate, 

And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

Was she nippit tae death at th' Pole? 

Has India bakit her broon? 

I canna tell that, but whatever her fate, 

I'll wager ye'll find t'was shared by a gate, 

And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

There's a moral attached tae my song: 

On greed ye should aye gie a froon! 

When ye think of the wife that was lost for a gate, 

An auld fish hake and a great muckle skate, 

And a lum hat wantin' th' croon!

-o0o-

tapselterie  = topsy-turvey 

fish-hake = fish fork 

lum hat = top hat 

syne  =next 

saugh = willow 

shoon = shoe 

skate = flat fish 

gree = be in harmony 

nippit = frozen

John Anderson, My Jo

Words by Robert Burns

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

When we were first acquent; 

Your locks were like the raven, 

Your bonnie brow was brent; 

But now your brow is beld, John, 

Your locks are like the snaw; 

But blessings on your frosty pow, 

John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John, 

We clamb the hill the gither; 

And mony a cantie day, John, 

We've had wi' ane anither: 

Now we maun totter down, John, 

And hand in hand we'll go, 

And sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson, my jo.

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-

The new blog

The Thomas Hardy Poetry Collection

begins tomorrow

thethomashardypoetrycollection.blogspot.com

The Piper o' Dundee

The piper came to oor toon, 

To our town, to oor toon 

The piper came to oor toon 

And he played so bonnielie, 

He play'd a spring the laird to please, 

A spring brent new from 'yont the seas 

And then he gae his bags a squeeze 

And played anither key

And wasna he a rougey, a rougey, a rougey, 

And wasna he a rougey, the piper o' Dundee.

He play'd "The Welcome Ower the Main" 

And "Ye's Be Fou and I'se be Fain" 

And "Auld Stuart's Back Again" 

Wi' muckle mirth and glee. 

He play'd "The Kirk", he play'd "The Queen" 

"The Mullin Dhu" and "Chevalier" 

And "Lang Awa' But Welcome Here" 

Sae sweet, sae bonnielie.

It's some gat swords and some gat nane 

And some were dancing mad their lane 

And mony a vow o' weir was ta'en 

That night at Amulrie. 

There was Tillibardine, and Burleigh 

And Struan, Keith, and Olgivie, 

And brave Carnegie, wha' but he, 

The piper o' Dundee.

And wasna he a rougey, a rougey, a rougey, 

And wasna he a rougey, the piper o' Dundee.

PLUS THE BONUS

Dundee

-o0o-

 A new blog
THE THOMAS HARDY POETRY COLLECTION
begins on Saturday 3rd February
thethomashardypoetrycollection.blogspot.com

 Miss Forbes' Farewell to Banff

Words by John Hamilton

Farewell, ye fields an' meadows green! 

   The blest retreats of peace an' love; 

Aft have I, silent, stolen from hence, 

   With my young swain a while to rove.

Sweet was our walk, more sweet our talk, 

   Among the beauties of the spring; 

An' aft we 'd lean us on a bank, 

   To hear the feather'd warblers sing.

The azure sky, the hills around, 

   Gave double beauty to the scene; 

The lofty spires of Banff in view — 

   On every side the waving grain.

The tales of love my Jamie told, 

   In such a saft an' moving strain, 

Have so engaged my tender heart, 

   I'm loth to leave the place again.

But if the Fates will be sae kind 

   As favour my return once more, 

For to enjoy the peace of mind 

   In those retreats I had before:

Now, farewell, Banff! the nimble steeds 

   Do bear me hence — I must away; 

Yet time, perhaps, may bring me back, 

   To part nae mair from scenes so gay.

PLUS THE BONUS

Banff

-o0o-