(Stevenson Productions SP901920)
©è
2009, Stevenson Productions, All rights reserved.
WILD MOUNTAIN THYME
(Traditional, Robert Tannahill)
Oh, the summer time is coming,
And the trees are sweetly blooming;
And the wild mountain thyme
Blooms around the purple heather.
Will ye go, lassie, go?
And we'll all go together,
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather.
Will ye go, lassie, go?
I will build my love a bower
By yon clear crystal fountain,
And in it I will pile
All the flowers from the mountain.
Will ye go, lassie, go?
If my true love will not go,
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather.
Will ye go, lassie, go?
WHA’LL BE KING BUT CHERLIE?
(Traditional)
Come thru the heather, aroond him gather
You’re a’ the welcomer early
Aroond him cling wi’ a’ yer kin
For wha’ll be king but Cherlie?
Come thru the heather, aroond him gather
You’re a’ the welcomer early
Tae crown yer rightfu’ lawfu’ king
For wha’ll be king but Cherlie?
The news frae Moidart came last night
Consumed our money fairly
Fer ships o’ hae juist cam in an’ landed Royal Cherlie.
The Hielan’ clans wi’ sword in hand
Frae John o’ Groats tae Airlie,
Hey, tae a man declared to stand or fa’ wi’ Royal Cherlie!
The lowlands are baeth great and sma’
Wi’ mony a lord an’ laird
Hae declared for Scotland’s king and law
And spier ye wha but Cherlie!
And here’s a health tae Cherlie’s cause
Be it complete an’ early
His very name would warm the hairt,
Tae airms fer royal Cherlie.
CAM YE OR'ER FRAE FRANCE
(Traditional)
Cam ye o’er frae France? Cam ye doon by Lunnon?
Saw ye Geordie’s whelps and his bonnie woman?
Were ye at the place ca’d the kittle hoosie;
Saw ye Geordie’s grace a-ridin’ on a goosie?
Geordie he’s a man – there is little doot o’t;
He’s done a’ he can. Wha can dae wi’oot ‘im?
Doon there cams a blade linkin’ like my lordie;
He wad drive a trade at the loom o’ Geordie!
Jocky’s gone tae France an’ Montgomery’s ladies
There they’ll learn tae dance,
“Madam are ye ready?”
They’ll be back betide, belted, brisk and lordly;
Brawly may they thrive tae dance a jig wi’ Geordie!
Tho’ the claith were bad, blithely may we niffer;
Gin we get a wab, it maks little differ.
We hae tint oor plaid; bonnet, belt an’ swordy,
Haws an’ mailin’s braid, but we hae oor Geordie.
Hey! For Sandy Don; hey! For Cockelorum;
Hey! For Bobbin’ John an’ his Hielan’ quorum.
Mony a sword an’ lance swings at Hielan’ hurdie;
How they’ll skip an’ dance o’er the bum o’ Geordie.
AN COINEACHAN - THE FAIRY CHASE
(Traditional)
I left my darling lying here, a-lying here, a-lying here,
I left my darling lying here, to go and gather blaeberries.
Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, goiridh og, O,
Goiridh og O, goiridh og O
Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og, O,
I’ve lost my darling baby O!
I’ve found the wee brown otter’s track,
But ne’er a trace of baby O!
Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og, O, etc.
I found the track of the swan on the lake,
But not the track of baby O!
Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og, O, etc.
I found the track of the yellow fawn,
but could not trace my baby O!
Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og, O, etc.
I found the trail of the mountain mist,
But ne’er a trace of baby O!
Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og, O, etc.
THE MIST COVERED MOUNTAINS OF HOME (CHI MI NA MOR-BHEANNA)
(Traditional, original Gaelic lyric by John Cameron, Ballachulish)
Hoo, o! Soon shall I see them, o; Hee, o! See them, o see them, o;
Ho-ro! Soon shall I see them, the mist-covered mountains of home.
There I shall visit the place of my birth;
And they’ll give me a welcome, the warmest on earth;
All so loving and kind, full of music and mirth,
In the sweet-sounding language of home.
There shall I gaze on the mountains again;
On the fields and woods and the burns in the glen;
And away ‘mong the corries, beyond human ken,
In the haunts of the deer I shall roam.
There I’ll converse with the hard-headed father;
And there I shall jest with the kind-hearted mother,
O, light is my heart as I turn my steps thither,
To the ever-dear precincts of home.
Hail! to the mountains with summits of blue;
To the glens with their meadows of sunshine and dew;
To the women and men ever constant and true,
Ever ready to welcome one home.
DUMBARTON'S DRUMS
(Traditional)
Dumbarton’s drums they sound sae bonnie
And they remind me o’ my Johnnie;
What fond delight doth steal upon me
When Johnnie kneels and kisses me.
My love he is a handsome laddie,
And though he is Dumbarton’s caddie
Some day I’ll be a captain’s lady,
When Johnnie tends his vow tae me.
Across the fields of bounding heather,
Dumbarton sounds the hour of pleasure;
The joy I ken will ken nae measure,
When Johnnie kneels and kisses me.
‘Tis he alone that can delight me,
His roving eye it doth invite me;
And when his tender arms enfold me,
The blackest night doth turn and flee.
SCOTLAND, FAIR SCOTLAND
(Jan & Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1999)
There's grandeur in these heathered glens,
Noble stag on thistled ben;
Proof of God's own guiding hand;
Martial valor, honored kin.
Independence echoes where long these riches reign.
Ancient Celtic blood runs strong in spirit and in name.
Here the eagle soars on high;
Gaelic strength our battle cry;
Hold the ancient standard high,
Scotsmen will live free or die.
The land owns us, not we the land,
Our fathers' faith abides.
Of Scotland, fair Scotland the piper's play with pride.
Here the tartan print of man;
Here the stamp of heart and song;
Far the reach of Scottish fame,
Lifting up and righting wrongs.
Alba, ancient Alba, shining in the past.
Scotland, fair Scotland, bright the future cast.
THE SILKIE/THE MERMAID SONG (ORAN NA MADAINN-MHARA)
(Traditional)
I am a man upon the land
I am a silkie in the sea
And when I’m far frae every strand
My home it is in Sule Skerry
In Norway land, there lived a maid
Baloo, lammy, this maid began
I ken na where your faither is
Nor yet the land where he dwells in
It happened on a certain day
When this fair maiden fell asleep
That in there come a grey silkie
And sat him doon at her bed feet
Saying wake, awake, my bonnie maid
For O how soundly thou dost sleep
I tell thee where his father is
He’s sitting close at thy bed feet
THE MINGULAY BOAT SONG
(Traditional, Lyric by Sir Hugh Robertson)
Heel y'ho boys. Let her go, boys.
Bring her head ‘round, now all together.
Heel y' ho boys. Let her go, boys.
Sailing home, home to Mingulay.
What care we tho’ white the Minch is?
What care we for wind and weather?
Let her go boys, every inch is
Wearing home home to Mingulay
Wives are waiting on the bank or
Looking seaward from the heather.
Bring her ‘round boys and we’ll anchor
E’er the sun sets on Mingulay.
GRADH GEAL MO CHRIDHE (FAIR LOVE OF MY HEART – ISLAY LOVE LILT)
(Traditional, Translation by Professor Blackie)
Bheir mi o-ro bhan-o, Bheir mi o-ro bhan-I;
Bheir mi o-ru o-ho; Sad am I without thee.
When I’m lonely dear white heart,
Black the night or wild the sea;
By love’s light my foot finds
The old pathway to thee.
Thou art the music of my heart,
Harp of joy, O, chruach mo chridhe;
Moon of guidance by night,
Strength and light thou’rt to me.
ALL AROUND MY HAT
(Traditional)
Faretheeweel cold winter and faretheeweel cold frost
Nothing have I gained, but my own true love I've lost
I'll sing and I'll be merry when on occasion I do see
My sweet-hearted love coming back to marry me
All around my hat I will wear the green willow
All around my hat for a twelve-month and a day
And if anyone should ask me
the reason why I'm wearing it
It's all for my true love who's far, far away.
I bought my love a gold ring to wear upon his finger
A token of our true love and to remember me
And when he returns we will never more be parted
We'll marry and be happy forever and a day
Seven, seven long years my love and I are parted
Seven, seven long years my love is bound to stay
Seven, seven long years I'll love him
And will never stray
And never sigh or sorrow while he's far, far away
YE JACOBITES BY NAME
(Traditional, Robert Burns)
Ye Jacobites by name, lend and ear, lend an ear,
Ye Jacobites by name, lend an ear;
Ye Jacobites by name, your fautes I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I maun blame,
You shall hear, you shall hear.
Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear.
What is right and what is wrong
by the law, by the law?
What is right and what is wrong by the law?
What is right and what is wrong,
A short sword and a long.
A weak arm and a strong for to draw, for to draw,
A weak arm and a strong for to draw.
What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife famed afar?
What makes heroic strife,
To whet the assassin’s knife,
Or hunt a parent’s life wi’ bloody war, bloody war,
Or hunt a parent’s life wi’ bloody war?
Then leave your schemes alone
In the state, in the state,
Then leave your schemes alone in the state,
Then leave your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man alone to his fate, to his fate,
And leave a man alone to his fate.
My LOVE IS LIKE A RED, RED ROSE
(Traditional, Robert Burns)
O, my love is like a red-red rose that's newly sprung in June
O, my love is like a melody that's sweetly played in tune
As fair art thou my bonnie lass, sae deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear, 'til a' the seas gang dry.
'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, and the rocks melt with the sun;
And I will love thee still, my dear, while the sands of life shall run.
And faretheeweel my only love; and faretheeweel a while!
And I will come again, my dear, tho' itwere ten thousand miles!
Tho' it were ten thousand miles, my love, tho' 'twere then thousand miles;
O, I will come again, my dear, tho' i'twere ten thousand miles.
THE BONNIE BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND
(Traditional, Lady John Scott, Arr. by Jan Smith)
By yon bonnie banks, and by yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
O ye'll take the high road and I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye
But me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond
'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen
On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomond
Where in purple hue the Hieland hills we’d view
And the moon coming out in the gloaming (twilight).
The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping;
But the broken heart kens (knows) no second spring,
Tho' the woeful may cease frae their greeting (crying).
GLENLOGIE
(Traditional)
There were four and twenty nobles rode through Bantry Fair,
And Bonnie Glenlogie was the flower of them there.
There were nine and ninety ladies sat in the King’s Hall,
And Jeanie of Bethelnie was the flower of them all.
Come down, Bonnie Jeanie, come tripping down the stairs
And she’s chosen Glenlogie over all of them there.
But he’s turned her ‘round lightly – like Jeanie’s done all,
Saying, “I thank ye Bonnie Jeanie, but I’ve promised them all!”
So, she calls for her maidens to make her a bed,
“If I’ll not have Glenlogie, I’ll surely be dead!”
A pox on ye, Logie! Why must it be so
When a maid’s love’s laid on ye, must she die in her woe?
When Glen he got the message, he said, “What’s the woman mean,
‘A pox on Glenlogie?’ Well, sure, saddle my steed.
Saddle me the black horse! Saddle me the brown,
Or Jeannie of Bethelnie will be dead e’er and gone!”
Pale and wan was Jeannie when Glenlogie came in.
But red and rosy grew she when she knew it was him.
“Come down, Bonnie Jeannie, come down by my side.
I’ll be the bridegroom and sure ye’ll be my bride!”
So, Jeannie – she’s got married and her dowry’s been told.
But then Jeannie of Bethelnie was scarce sixteen years old.
Och, Bethelnie, O Bethelnie, ye shine while ye stand,
And the heather bells around ye, they shine out o’er the land.
THE SKYE BOAT SONG
(Traditional, Lyric by Robert Louis Stevenson)
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone.
Say could that lad be I?
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the seas to Skye.
Mull was astern, Rum on the port,
Eigg on the starboard bow.
Glory of youth glowed in his soul.
Where is that glory now?
Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone!
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that's gone!
Billow and breeze, islands and seas,
Mountains of rain and sun,
All that was good, all that was fair,
All that was me is gone.
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