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01
[JS] Welcome to the prize
winner's concert and to get things underway, I'll introduce
you to your compere, Robbie Shepherd! [Applause.]
02-03
[RS] And let me welcome first
of all the winner of the senior pipe. He plays in the Buchan
Pipe Band, he comes from St Combs and his name is Piper Bill
Henderson, there he is coming in now.
[Pipes play two sets]
[Applause.]
[RS] Thank you very much Bill, setting us off
there on our prize winners and that was the senior pipe today.
Great attractions surely to this festival is to proudly introduce
our youngsters, seeing our President, Peter down here and
David Toulmin, folk like that doon beside us, they must be
affa proud of the fact that we'd such a big entry today for
the continuation of our ane tongue, it was really great. And
here's a lassie that won the under 12 Doric verse. Her name
is Marie McCulloch. So Ann Marie if you come here for the
moment, Anne Marie McCulloch [Applause.]. And we're getting
a J. C. Milne one for a start, and one that was recited in
the open air concert today, 'Better Deid'. Anne Marie McCulloch.
[Applause.].
04
[AMM]
O a' ma freens noo gaen awa,
A fyowe I hinna missed ava,
And fyles a thocht gangs through my heid,
A hantle folk are better deid.
First o a, there's Kirsty Young,
For lang Jock tholed her soople tongue,
Day and nicht, withoot remeid,
The threepin jaud, she's better deid.
The Dominie he's gane lang syne,
But man his name I canna min,
They say he came fae Peterheid,
Bluemogganer, he's better deid.
And Gweed forgie aul Jeemsie Broon,
Wha kent the claik in ilka toun,
And aye the ill afore the guid,
Din-raisin vraitch, he's better deid.
Alas for bonnie Jeannie Gow,
A strappin quine, fae owre the knowe,
I doot she wis but middlin gweed,
For a concerned she's better deid.
The girnin gamie's gaen, peer stock,
Wi his futret tails and sic like trock,
Nae mair he'll vex my Buchan bleed,
A Hielander, he's better deid.
And guid behere, I near forgot,
The Reverend Weellum Patrick Scott,
Wha nivver did nae ill - Nor guid,
We are respeck, he's better deid.
And contermashious, Tammie Tough,
I aften wished him far eneuch,
Nae drogs, nor doctors did him gweed,
It's jist as weel, cause he's better deid.
And Kirsty Ann Jemima Tait,
Nae better han at makkin maet,
Or catchin ferlies in her heid,
Preserve us a! She's better deid.
An for masel, fin caul fite death ,
Comes shiverin ben tae jeel my breath,
Let nae man nod or shak his heid,
And say 'I doot she's better deid.' [Applause.]
05
[RS] Well the Buchan tongue
may say She's better deid, but we're saying that we're far
fae deid wi the Buchan tongue with artists like that. Once
again for the young lassie [Applause.]. Thank you indeed.
We are nae deid, far we're alive and kickin. And I'll prove
it to you now, because a lad that won two competitions today,
he won the Junior Melodeon I think it was and he also won
the Junior Bothy Ballad. And he's a young loon, he's only
nine years aul, and he wears bonnet that musta belonged to
his great-great-grandfather's great-great-grandfather. But
it's still livin an a, it's kept livin by the moss gan roon
ye ken. Noo the loon, keeps going. Young Gordon Caroll from
Gartly [Applause.]. And Gordon, I'll gie ye a wee bitta time
tae get yersel intae motion there, binder twine roon aboot
the knees and athing there, starting off with 'Lord Lovat's
Lament' I think, and 'Willie's Gan tae Melville Castle,' and
then 'Wild Mountain Thyme.' Am I right?
[GC] Aye.
[RS] Thank goodness. From Gartly, nine years
old, Gordon Carol.
[Plays; applause.]
[RS] I'll take the box, and you put on the bonnet,
and I'll take this awa a wee bittie. Tell me Gordon what's
your song.
[GC] The Buchan Plooman
[RS] The Buchan Plooman, winning the Junior
Bothy Ballad the day, you just lookit up at that thing there,
up in the sky there [laughs]. No not there, the other een.
Right, in your own time
then. The Buchan Plooman.
[GC] 'The Buchan Plooman'
Come a ye jolly plooman lads at work amon the
grun
Come listen tae ma story if ye wint tae hae some fun
I'm nae sae young's a I used tae be, some say I've hin ma
fling,
And I feel like a five year aul fen I begin tae sing
Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the
day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.
Noo doon at Ellon feein mairket noo listen fit
I say,
A mannie come up tae me and spiert if I'd work a ten oor day,
If I cauld full muck wi a man, he fairly gart me gape,
Says I, auld man far I come fae, we full muck wi a graip.
Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the
day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.
I wis bothied for a sax month at a place we
ca'd Balcairn,
Fan I gaed doon the bothy lads they took me for a bairn,
Wi horny hauns, they ate biled spuds, the bothy fleer wis
happit,
Wi ma tackity beets I tramped a spud and said, I like mine
chappit.
Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the
day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.
Noo the nicht I mairried Mary-Ann I got most
affa fu,
The minister tried tae tie the knot there wis a hullabaloo,
He said, fit is yer name my man and have ye got the ring,
Ye should hae seen the mannie's face when I began tae sing.
Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the
day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay. [Applause.]
[RS] That's certainly a boy for the future surely,
once again for Gordon Carroll. Well done Gordon [Applause.].
I love aboot comin here, especially when I'm introducing these
youngsters, and I'm going to introduce another one now.
09
[RS] Just before Gordon I introduced Ann Marie McCulloch and
she gave us a JC Milne poem, and her younger sister won the
8 years and under, so it's sister Catherine McCulloch winning
the 8 years and under again with a J.C. Milne topper called
'Dominie Dandie'.
[CM] 'Dominie Dandie'
I've been tae skweel and college and ta'en a
gweed degree,
And noo I think I'm thinkin it's a teacher I wid be,
And in twa-three year I'se warrant, gin the warld's waggin
weel,
They'll mak me Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.
I widna gang stravaigin aye awa te Aiberdeen,
And yonner at Pittodrie stan and shiver in ma sheen,
And ca the Dons for athing like an orra workin chiel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.
And ilka Sunday mornin tae the kirk I'd walk
in style,
Wi a muckle black umbrella and a swagger and a smile,
I'd nivver miss a sermon for widder, sark or peel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.
Nae wyvers and their moose-wobs wid be hingin
on the was,
But twa-three pintit picters o a lichthoose and sea-ma's,
A haul o herrin drifters or a fish-wife wi her creel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.
And aften fin it's looking like a dribblin drap
o rain,
Gweed sakes, they marka double and lat a the littlins hame,
And syne gang gallivantin wi fishin-rod and reel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.
Fae Monday morn till Friday nicht I'd yark the
learnin in,
Though I widna touch the fancy frills, for that wid be a sin,
Nae drawin, singing, dancin, they're the cantrips o the Deil,
No I widna hae sic ongauns in my couthie country skweel.
And gin a grey-haird granny cam te nyatter in
ma lugs,
That the skweel wis fu o ferlies blaudin a her Muggsie Wugs,
I wid lat yer yarp and yammer till her tongue took time to
queel,
And afore she left she'd whisper, It's a couthie country skweel.
God bless a kirk ministers and keep them in
gweed bin,
For they're aye on a committees and wi them ye'd best haud
in,
And Deevil tak the hindmost wha widna wish me weel,
And mak me Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel. [Applause.]
[RS] I think I can now stand on the stage and
just go like that and you'd give your applause. Surely that's
what it's all about. I'm only sad, I'm sure you are too, that
JC Milne couldna hear that tonight, I think that's a great
tribute to him, it really is [Applause.]. Yes, we're set fair.
10
[RS] Once again this time
we go to the piano. This is the winner of the junior piano
today, and she was Sarah Anderson of Westhill. And Sarah would
like to play first of all Mary of Argyll, then the Marchioness
of Huntly and the Perth Hunt. Our Junior winner of piano,
Sarah Anderson of Westhill. [Applause.]
[Plays; applause.]
11
[RS] Our winner of the junior
fiddle, and he's only aged 10, and he is a young lad called
Kevin Hay of Fochabers. You come in Kevin I'll introduce your
tunes. Now you dinna start until you feel you are ready, but
I'll introduce the tunes. 'Scott Skinner's Compliments to
Dr MacDonald,' then 'The Marquis of Huntly's Highland Fling'
and then finish with 'The Breakdown.' Kevin Hay.
[Plays]
12
[RS] Singing today to wing
the Junior Ballad, the song was 'The Banks of Red Roses,'
Nicola Reid. [Applause.].
[NR] Ye'll hae tae excuse me for feeling a wee
bittie nervous, cause I've a feelin there might be a puckle
folk here I ken.
'Banks o Red Roses'
When I was a wee thing, and easy led astray,
Before I would work, I would raither sport and play,
Before that I would work, I would rather sport and play,
With my Johnny on the banks o red roses.
On the banks o red roses, my love and I sat
down,
He took out his tuning box to play his love a tune,
In the middle o the tune, his love broke down and cried,
Oh my Johnny, oh my Johnny, dinna leave me?
He took out his pocket knife and it was long
and sharp,
And he pierced through and through his bonny lassie's heart,
And he pierced through his bonny lassie's heart,
And he left her lying there low among the roses.
Thank you. [Applause.]
13
[RS] Let me now introduce you to the next of our winners,
and I'm delighted that she won the Intermediate Accordion.
From Drummuir, Lynne Christie. Lynne starts off tonight with
'Bieldside,' then 'The Duke of Edinburgh' and 'The Rejected
Suitor.' Lynne Christie. [Applause.]
[Plays]
14
[RS] The next one coming
in now is the Intermediate Tin Whistle and we welcome Scott
Milton of Fraserburgh [Applause.]. Scott is starting off with
that beautiful slow air, 'The Hills of Lorne,' followed by
'The Battle of the Somme' and then 'Green Woodside.' Scott
Milton.
[Plays]
15
[RS] A young lassie I introduced
not so long ago on the piano, we have a winner with her brother,
on piano Keith Anderson and not only did he win the piano
intermediate, but he won the fiddle as well. So come in first
of all Keith Anderson on piano. Yes. The first tune is going
to be Miss Laura Andrews, and then two from James Murdoch
Henderson, 'Mrs C. Sutherland' and 'Charlie Sutherland.' 14
years old, intermediate piano. Keith Anderson [Applause.].
[Plays]
[End of Side A.]
16-17
[RS] Keith's looking round to say, am I finished? No, you're
nae finished, cause yer comin back here wi the fiddle. We
have Keith's sister who won the junior section before on the
fiddle is coming forward this time to accompany her brother
who also won the intermediate fiddle. So can I call back again
Sarah for a start. Are you alright there Keith? You're going
to start off with the 'Balmoral Castle,' then we have two
from Peter Milne, Peter Milne the Tarland Minstrel, wi the
'Muir o Gillan' and 'Gillan's Reel.' Keith Anderson.
[Plays]
18
[RS] But winning the ladies
ballad, from Mintlaw, Liz Stewart.
[ES] 'The Laird o Drum'
Oh the Laird o Drum's a-huntin gane,
He wis a walkin a the mornin early,
And wha did he see but a weel-faured lass,
She's a-shearin her faither's barley.
Oh wid ye nae be a gentleman's wife,
And wid ye nae be his lady,
And wid ye nae be o some high degree,
And leave yer shearing be-o.
Oh I wid be a gentleman's wife,
And I wid be his lady,
And I wid be o some higher degree,
But nae I'm a match for thee-o.
For my faither he is a puir shepherd man,
He herds them on yonder hill-o,
And onything that he bids me dae,
I'm always at his command-o.
Oh the lassie can neither read nor write,
She wis nivver at a school-o,
But ony other thing a well can she dae,
For learned the lassie masel-o.
Oh she canna wash yer china cups,
Nor her mask a cup o tea-o,
But weel can she mak ???,
And a ?? on her knee-o.
Oh fa will mak yer bridal breid,
And wha will brew yer ale-o,
And wha will staun at the gates o the Drum,
And welcome your bonnie lassie in-o.
Oh the baker'll bake my bridal breid,
And the brewer will brew my ale-o
And I will staun at the gates o the Drum,
And welcome my bonnie lassie-o.
Up spake his brither John,
A man o high degree-o,
Ye're marryin a lass o this fine night,
And she's nae a match for thee-o.
For the last lady we hid in this place,
She wis far below my degree-o,
??? time I enter into her room,
Til our hands were below our knees-o.
If you were dead and I was dead,
And baith laid in our grave-o,
An ??? raised up again,
Fa wid ken yer dust fae mine-o,
Aye, fa's tae ken yer dust fae mine-o.
19
[RS] Let me now get onto
the Ladies Melodeon competition. And this is a lady that I
have know quite a number of years. Margaret Greig. Margaret
you are using 'The Music o Spey' tonight for your first tune,
and then 'The Smith's a Gallant Fireman,' then 'Come Let us
Dance and Sing.' Margaret Greig.
[Plays]
20-21
[RS] Welcome the lad that
one both the bothy ballad and the big ballad competition.
From Kirriemuir, Joe Aitken.
[JA] Isn't he lookin real smart the nicht [laughs].
I feel richt orra staundin aside him [laughs].
[RS] What's your first song, darling? [laughs].
[JA] Right, eh, right, as Robbie said, I'll
start off wi the Buchan Plooman. I think the judges maybe
hid an off day but never mind [laughs].
'The Buchan Plooman'
Come a ye jolly plooman lads at work amon the
grun,
Come listen tae ma story if ye want tae hae some fun,
I'm nae sae young's a I used tae be, some say I've hid ma
fling,
But I feel just like a ten year aul fen I begin tae sing.
Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the
day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.
A tellin feein mairket noo listen fit I say,
A fairmer speirt gin I could work a pair a ten oor day,
If I could fu muck wi a man, he fairly gart me gape,
Says I, auld man far I come fae, ye fill muck wi a graip.
Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the
day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.
I bothied for a sax month at a place they ca'd
Balcairn,
Fan I gaed hame the bothy lads they took me for a bairn,
Wi horny hauns, they ate biled spuds, the bothy fleer wis
happit,
Wi ma sharnie bits I tramped the spuds and said I like mine
chappit.
Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the
day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.
The nicht I mairried Mary-Ann I got most affa
foo,
Fan the minister tried tae tie the knot there wis a how de
ye do,
He said, fit is yer name my man and have ye got the ring,
Ye should hae seen the mannie's face when I began tae sing.
Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the
day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay. [Applause.]
22
[JA] Whoo, it's warm in here.
Now the next song I'm going to sing ca'd the Twa Gadgies.
'The Twa Gadgies'.
Well I met twa gadgies doon a road, quarreling
like tae kill,
Gin it wis sax or seven miles tae yon toon oot ower the hill,
Well I hae my supper in my pyoke and a' my time is free,
And be it sax or seven miles to some toon, well what's the
odds tae me.
Noo I tramps the country up and doon and mony's
an orra job I'm hired,
But I see nae sense in raxin masel, and I'll nae work when
I'm tired;
For I just need eneuch tae keep masel and my doss costs me
nae fee,
And be it sax or seven miles tae some toon, well what's the
odds tae me.
Noo I've nivver taen the wimmen fowk, noo doubt
they've nivver taen tae me,
So the road I maun tak is a lonely road, wi for was noo I
cuidnae fa tae,
And the bed I maun mak is a lonely bed, hin some dyke or below
some tree,
And be it sax or seven miles tae some toon, well what's the
odds tae me.
Noo I pity fowk o gentle birth, tied up wi parasols
and pedigrees,
Gin they could throw their shackles aff, then like me they'd
be truly free,
For I wis born in a drystane dyke, hin a drystane dyke I'll
die,
And be it sax or seven miles tae some toon, well what's the
odds tae me. [Applause.]
[RS] Well worth the applause there. What a punch
line that is to finish, but what a singer is Joe Aiken. Well
done. Continue now. Will you please welcome Alison Buchan.
23
[AB] 'The Reekin Lum,' by
Peter Buchan
Jock come oot till his gavel ane, and he leaned
against the wa,
He lifted the snoot o his aul daen cape and he gaed his pow
a cla,
He lichted his pipe wi a sook and a smack and he traivelled
back and forth,
The same aul wey that he'd daen for years, fae the hoose tae
the sheddie door,
The watch keeper's stars were bricht clear abeen in the frosty
dark,
And the wind's cauld nose wisnae slow to learn that Jock's
wis a gey thin sark.
It wis five steps east. It wis five steps wast,
wi a thocht aboot this and that,
And nivver a sowl to look near haun, but a myowling, prowling
cat,
And nivver a soun but the sooch o the win, and the girn o
the grumblin sea,
For the bairns that had played in the street a nicht, were
far sleepy bairns should be,
It wis five steps east. It wis five steps wast. Wi a thocht
aboot this and that,
Fin up fae the shore came a weel kent fit, twas his crony
aul Dod Watt.
Oh a lang thin chiel, wi his neck weel rowd
in a gravit sax feet lang,
And throw the stumps o his broken teeth he wis whistlin an
aul Scotch sang,
A tune that wis aul as the hielan hills, although he couldnae
gie it a name,
He wis gey sair made at the twirlie bits, but he fustled them
just the same.
Sis! Says he when he sa oor Jock at his traivellin
up and doon,
Ye're the only driftin sowel I've seen this nicht in a the
toon,
Hiv ye nae a hame, are ye short o coal that ye're birdin on
oot here,
Ye'd be jist as warm if ye stood a file at the pint of the
convict here.
Man, says Jock, I wis sittin fine in the cosy
ingle neuk,
Readin a bit and sing a bit and beatin an ?? heuk,
The dog wis straitched on the fender steel, wi a sleepy heid
on ma feet,
And I thocht that life wi its ups and doon could fyles be
unca sweet,
Fen doon the lum came a muckle ? it filled the hoose wi reek,
And I hosted sair and I cowkit mair like a first year loon
at sik.
My een wis waterin thick and fast, my nose is
full a sit,
So I've jist come oot for a breath right noo, for the air
in ere's nae fit.
Sis, says Dod, at's a pity noo. And he fell in step wi Jock,
but nivver a word did he believe,
For Jock wis lee'in folk, since ever they sail'd the stormy
seas, their cod had aye fower heids,
And the hens o them that wis fairmin folk laid eggs wi twa
big reeds.
It wis five steps east. It wis five steps wast.
Wi a word aboot this and that,
Jock wi the reek fleein ower his heid, while Dod jist chowed
and spat,
And every drag wis a double lift and in every heuk a skate,
And herrin ran doon ?? lids like a hieland burn in spate.
So up they shot and hauled, they dodged and
ran through fair and conter seas,
And aye as the dark hoor greater grew, aye, greater grew the
lies.
Till oot o the nicht a fearsome yowl came dirlin, wild and
clear,
It still'd their speak, it stive'd their speak, it froze their
hairts wi fear.
Twis Isie oot at the kitchen door, on the hunt
for her guid man Jock,
Then she gyarded him up and she gyarded him doon, baith him
and a his folk,
And lood, aye looder grew her note and ?? grew her skirl,
And gard the cat take sheet wi fright, it gard the windaes
dirl.
He wis this, he wis that, he wis nithin guid,
he wis idle tae the bone,
And the only thing that brocht a smile wis the sicht o the
southerly cone,
He wis nivver oot, he wis nivver in, he wis jist an orra drooth,
Fine did she ken fit wey he wis aye sae keen for a birth forsooth,
And aye her tongue gaed clatter clak, like the star'n o a
crippled chook,
And the names that she ca'd her man that night wis never seen
in the beuk,
Guidnicht, says Dod, till his leein freen. Aye see it's the
reek that's tae blame,
But it's time I wisnae here mysel, I've a reekin lum at hame!
[Laughs, applause.]
24-25
[RS] On we go then to the winners today! This is the senior
fiddle. And again a lad that I have seen growing up since
the days he was with the Banchory Strathspey and Reel Society
and still is. Paul is going to start off tonight with a 'Lament
for MacCrimmon,' beautiful slow air then as a strathspey and
a reel, 'Miss Lyall.' The winner of the senior fiddle, Paul
Anderson of Tarland. [Plays]
[RS] We haven't an affa lot to go now, but I'd
like to introduce a lady ballad winner today, fae St Fergus
winning the Ladies Ballad competition this afternoon, yes
we welcome back again Morven Jessiman. And Morven's going
to tell you a aboot pluckin neeps in winter.
26
[MJ] 'Neeps tae Pluck'
Twis on a Martinmas market day, the snow lay
on the ground,
Fen a fairmer he gaed up tae a lad and offered him ten pounds,
But mine ye've neeps tae pluck an nowt tae muck, and a hunner
ither jobs forbye,
And seein the guid wife she's laid doon, ye winna mine milkin
the cai
Up spoke the lad, oh he wis mad,
What wis that ye said,
That ye'd mak me a fairmer's boy intil a dairy maid,
Oh yer neeps I'll pluck yer nowt I'll muck,
An dae ony ither jobs forbye.
But I'm blessed if I will undertake tae milk yer bloomin kye.
Oh hud yer tongue the fairmer said and nae mak
sik a soon,
Here tak the shillin and say nae mair afore a crood gither
roon,
But mine ye've neeps tae pluck in oot the muck,
And a hunner ither jobs forbye,
And if the guid wife she gets up I winna bid ye milk the kye.
O that's nae use the laddie said but I've heard
that tale afore,
And I man hae mair proof than that afore I enter yer door,
Or yer neeps I winna pluck, your nowt I winna muck,
Nor dae ony ither jobs forbye,
Nor tak in hand tae be a dairy maid and milk yer bloomin kye.
We hiv a maid the fairmer said, and she his
tae milk as weel,
Haud on, haud on, the laddie cried, man that's anither tale,
Oh yer neeps I'll pluck, yer nowt I'll muck, and dae ony ither
jobs forbye
And if the maid, she gangs alang wi me, we'll very soon milk
yer kye.
The laddie arrived wi his pooches fu and a chackie[?]
on his back,
And he spied the fairmer wi an ugly daem haein a quaet crack,
That'll be the guid wife, the laddie thocht, I'm glaid she's
nae laid doon,
For I dinna want to start milkin yet, afore I've seen the
toon.
My wife's nae better the fairmer said, but this
is oor dairy maid,
She'll help ye wi the milkin fan she's gotten yer supper laid,
Oh yer neeps ye can pluck, yer nowt ye can muck and dae ony
ither jobs forbye
It's a wonner that a woman wi a face like that, she disnae
put yer coos a' dry,
Aye, she disnae put your coos a' dry. [Applause.]
27
[RS] Continue now as I bring
on the open melodeon champion and he comes fae Cushnie and
that's Bill Stewart! He's starting off with Charlie Allen's
tune and Charlie was adjudicating there in the big ballad,
'Lonely in the Bothy,' that's followed by a song we've heard
tonight, 'The Banks o the Roses,' and then 'The Aul Meal Mill.'
Once again, Bill Stewart o Cushnie. [Applause.]
[Plays]
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