A WEE BIT OF SCOTLAND

 

The following sampler contains a few Scottish poems, and lyrics (from traditional songs), gathered for your enjoyment.  First off, are some poems written by Robert Burns (1759-1796), hero of Scottish letters, sometimes referred to as "Scotland's national poet" for the powerful impact he has had throughout the world as a representative of Scottish culture, and for the great pride he has given to his countrymen through his accomplishments.  For any and all who, upon reading his work, believe that my spellcheck is broken, I can only assure you that what you read is what he wrote, all those years ago.  English, through a Scottish prism, is not quite the same as the English we have grown accustomed to.  Following Robert Burns' poems are the lyrics to several beloved Scottish songs.  In reference to them:  a silkie - for any who do not know - is a supernatural being who, wearing a magic sealskin, dwells within the sea, but, taking it off, may also come and live upon the land (and "bairn" means "child"); while MacPherson, of "MacPherson's Lament", was a well-loved defier of authority who faced his end with the bravery for which Scots have always been known and admired.

 

To A Mouse:  By Robert Burns 

Auld Lang Syne:  By Robert Burns

John Barleycorn:  A Ballad, By Robert Burns

Loch Lomond (Traditional, Lyrics)

My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean (Trad., Lyrics)

The Great Silkie (Trad., Lyrics)

MacPherson's Lament (Trad., Lyrics)

Mairi's Wedding (Trad., Lyrics)

 

To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough:  By Robert Burns
I
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I was be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
 
II
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion
An' fellow-mortal!
 
III
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
And never miss't!
 
IV
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!
 
V
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
 
VI
That wee bit heap o' leaves an stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!
 
VII
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
 
VIII
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I cannot see,
I guess an' fear!

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Auld Lang Syne:  By Robert Burns

CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!
I
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?
II
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!
III
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary foot
Sin' auld lang syne.
IV
We twa hae paidl'd in the burn
Frae mornin sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.
V
And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine,
And we'll take a right quid-willie waught,
For 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!

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John Barleycorn:  A Ballad, By Robert Burns
There was three kings into the east,
   Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
  John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough'd him down
  Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
  John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
  And show'rs began to fall ;
John Barleycorn got up again,
  And sore surpris'd them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
  And he grew thick and strong ;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
  That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
  When he grew wan and pale ;
His bending joints and drooping head
  Show'd he began to fail.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
  He faded into age ;
And then his enemies began
  To show their deadly rage.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
  And cut him by the knee ;
Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
  Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
  And cudgell'd him full sore ;
They hung him up before the storm,
  And turn'd him o'er and o'er.

They fillèd up a darksome pit
  With water to the brim,
They heavèd in John Barleycorn-
  There, let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
  To work him further woe ;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
  They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
  The marrow of his bones ;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
  For he crush'd him between two stones.

And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
  And drank it round and round ;
And still the more and more they drank,
  Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
  Of noble enterprise ;
For if you do but taste his blood,
  'Twill make your courage rise.

'Twill make a man forget his woe ;
  'Twill heighten all his joy ;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
  Tho' the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
  Each man a glass in hand ;
And may his great posterity
  Ne'er fail in old Scotland !
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Loch Lomond (Traditional, Lyrics)

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

 

[Chorus]:

O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.
Where me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.

 

‘Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side o’ Ben Lomond.
Where in deep purple hue, the hieland hills we view,
And the moon comin’ out in the gloamin’.

[Chorus]

The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping:
But the broken heart, it kens nae second spring again,
Tho’ the waefu’ may cease from their greeting.

[Chorus]

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My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean (Trad., Lyrics)


My bonnie lies over the ocean
My bonnie lies over the sea
My bonnie lies over the ocean
Oh bring back my bonnie to me

Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me

Last night as I lay on my pillow
Last night as I lay on my bed
Last night as I lay on my pillow
I dreamed that my bonnie was dead

Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me

Oh blow ye the winds o'er the ocean
And blow ye the winds o'er the sea
Oh blow ye the winds o'er the ocean
And bring back my bonnie to me

Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me

The winds have blown over the ocean
The winds have blown over the sea
The winds have blown over the ocean
And brought back my bonnie to me

Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me 

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The Great Silkie (Trad., Lyrics)

An earthly norris sits and sings
And aye she sings ba lilly wean
Little ken I my bairn's father
Far less the land where he sleeps in

Then up stepped he to her bedside
And a grumly guest I'm sure is he
Saying here I am your bairn's father
Although I be not comely

I am a man upon the land
I am a silkie in the sea
And when I'm far and far from land
My home is in the Skule Skerry

It wasna' well quoth the maiden fair
It wasna' well indeed quoth she
That the Great Silkie of Skule Skerry
Should have come and brought a bairn to me

Then he has taken a purse of gold
And he has put it on her knee
Saying give to me my fine young son
And take thee thy nursing fee

It shall come to pass on a summer's day
When the sun shines hot on every stone
That I shall take my fine young son
And teach him for to swim the foam

And you shall marry a gunner proud
A right fine gunner I'm sure he'll be
And the very first shot that day he'll shoot
He'll kill both my young son and me

Alas, alas the maiden cried
This weary fate's been laid for thee
And then she said and then she cried
I'll bury me in the Skule Skerry

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Macpherson's Lament (Trad., Lyrics)

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong
Farewell, farewell to thee.
Macpherson's life will ne'er be long
On yonder gallows tree.

 

[Chorus]:

Sae rantingly, sae wontonly
Sae dauntingly gaed he
He played a tune an' he danced aroon
Below the gallows tree. 

 

Take off these bands from off of my hands
And gie to me my sword
There's nae a man in a' Scotland
But I'll brave him at a word.

[Chorus]

There's some come here for to see me hung
And some to buy my fiddle
But before that I do part wi' her
I'll brak her thro' the middle.

[Chorus]

He took his fiddle in both of his hands
And he broke it o'er a stone
Sayin there's nae a hand shall play on thee
When I am dead and gone.

[Chorus]

The reprieve was comin' o'er the brig o' Banff
To set Macpherson free
But they put the clock a quarter before
And they hanged him from the tree.

[Chorus]

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Mairi's Wedding (Trad., Lyrics)

CHORUS:

Step it gaily, off we go
Heel for heel and toe for toe,
Arm in arm and off we go
All for Mairi's wedding.

 

Over hillways up and down
Myrtle green and bracken brown,
Past the sheiling through the town
All for sake of Mairi.

[CHORUS]

Plenty herring, plenty meal
Plenty peat to fill her creel,
Plenty bonny bairns as weel
That's the toast for Mairi.

[CHORUS]

Cheeks as bright as rowans are
Brighter far than any star,
Fairest o' them all by far
Is my darlin' Mairi.

[CHORUS]

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