|
01
[RM] Sing the bothy ballad
first. It's the Dying Ploughboy.
The gloamin winds are blawin saft,
A roond my lonely stable laft,
Amid the dark skies dusky red,
The sunbeams wander roond my bed.
The doctor left me in good cheer,
But something tells me death is near,
My time on earth has nae been lang,
My time has come and I must gang.
Ah me its but a week the morn,
Since I was weel and hairstin corn,
As fu o health and strength and fun,
As ony man amongst the throng.
But something in my breist gaed wrang,
A vessel burst and blood it sprang,
And as the sun sets in the sky,
They'll lay me doon nae mair tae rise.
Fareweel my horse, my bonnie pair ,
I'll yoke and lowse wi you nae mair,
Fareweel my ploo, wi you this hand,
Will turn over nae mair fresh land.
Fareweel my friends my comrades dear,
My voice ye shall nae langer hear,
Fareweel tae yonder settin sun,
My time has come and I must gang.
I've served my maister weel and true,
My weel daen work he'll nivver rue,
And yet forbye, I micht hae striven,
Tae reach the pearly gates o hivven.
Tis weel my maker knows my name,
Will he gie me a welcome hame,
As I should help in need afford
Receive me in your mercy Lord.
[applause]
02
Oh come a' ye tramps an hawker
lads ye gaither o blow,
That tramp the country roon and roon, come listen een and
a',
I'll tell tae you a rovin tale o sichts that I hae seen,
Far up intae the snowy north and doon by Gretna Green.
I've seen the high Ben Lomond a towerin tae
the moon,
I've been by Crieff and Callander, and roon by bonny Doune,
I've seen Loch Ness's silvery tide and places ill tae ken,
For up in tae the snowy North lies Urquhart's Fairy Glen.
Noo I'm often doon by Gallowa and roon aboot
Stranraer,
My business taks me onywhere, I'll travel near or far,
I have a rovin ocean and little fate I loathe,
Oh a I need is my daily fare and whit will pey my dose.
Noo I sometimes lauch untae masel when trudging
on the road,
Wi a bag o bla upon my back, my face as broun as a toad,
Wi lumps o cake and tattie scones and cheese and braxie ham,
It's nae thinkin far I'm comin fae, but far I'm gan tae gang.
So I think I'll go tae Paddy's land, I'm makin
up ma mind,
For in Scotland's fairly altered noo, I canna raise the wind,
But I will trust in providence, if providence proves true,
Aye, and I will sing o Erin's isle when I come back to you.
And I will sin o Erin's isle when I come back to you.
[applause]
03
Twas at a certain fairm toon,
on the winding Deveron-Plaidy border,
Lived an auld wifie ca'd Mistress Greig, and the servant girlies
she kept in order.
The weemin o this hid tired been, and a suit
o men's clothes they procured,
And they hae made a man o straw, and in aneth the bed he wis
buried.
As Mistress Greig wis gan her roonds, twas in
aneth the bed she spied him,
Come oot o that ye villain, she cried, and dinna think yer
fae me hiding.
The weemin they were pittan up, tae tak him
oot fae far he wis lying,
And they auld man placed at the fit o the stair, tae cudgel
him while from them flying.
They've taen him oot and they've laid him doon,
and the auld man he wis for him ready,
But when he laid on his sticks sae hard, baith the legs fell
from the body.
And the weemin they were puttan awa, for this
ill deed that they'd been doin,
And Mistress Greig and her old man, were left tae gaither
his body thegither.
Oh Mistress Greig and her auld man, the pair
old bodies they neednae bother,
For fan he lays on his sticks sae hard, perhaps they'll maybe
slay another.
[applause]
04
For my Scots song I'll do a song I just learned from Jane
Turriff. She lives a few miles down the road from me and still
a lovely singer, even at age 83, going strong. This is called
'My Wee Doggie'
Oh my wee doggie has learned me a trick,
To go a-huntin when it was dark,
To go a-huntin when it was dark,
A-hountin wi my wee dog and I.
I had not gone far, on my way,
When a nice young girlie she was going my way,
I asked pretty maiden, o whit brocht ye here,
And I courted that young maid like ony man could do.
She said, I love apples and I love pears,
And I love these cherries that grow on thon trees,
And I love my true love and he loved me,
So begone young man, begone, for I don't love you.
Oh he's taen on high road, and she's taen on
glens,
And aye he whistled and aye she sung,
And the song that she sung was a threid o blue,
O I love my true love, but I don't love you.
O lassie, lassie noo dry awa yer tears,
For it's my bad behaviour has caused ye tae murn,
But the world it is wide my love and we'll gang aside,
And the whole world will ken that my love is yours.
O lassie, o lassie, noo dry away yer tears,
And for you and your bairnie, ye neednae fear,
Though the world it is wide my love, we'll gang aside,
And the whole world will ken that my bairnie is yours.
Oh my wee doggie has learned me a trick,
To go a-huntin, when it wis dark,
To go a-huntin, when it wis dark,
A-huntin wi my wee dog and I.
[applause]
05
[ES] Now they tell me ye
need big feet tae sing this een. Here goes anyway.
Noo I am a country bobby and my name is Jock
McQueen,
I wis born and bred in Buchan, syne I come tae Aiberdeen,
It's foo I land in Aiberdeen, I'll now tae you relate,
But afore I tell ma story, the truth tae you I'll state.
My mither ment ma auld breeks, my father ca'd
a ploo,
A but and ben wis a wir hame, we cottered wi a coo,
The smell o ham and eggs and beef, it niver reached wir nose,
I wis brocht up doon in Buchan, aye maistly on the brose.
Bap feet, flat feet, hear the bairnies cry,
Early in the evenin as yer passin by,
Keekin roon the corners, shoutin 'here he goes!',
But ye canna touch a Buchan laddie fed upon the brose.
Noo I've ??? wis contented till I wis near nineteen,
I wis second lad at Hillie's farm, we hid a sonsie deem,
I fell in love wi Nancy and I speired gin she be mine,
But she said she widnae hae me, although she liked me fine.
She said, man I like ye fine Jock, but I'm scunnered
o this life,
Ye'll hae tae try another job if ye wint me for yer wife,
A cotter life's a trauchle as I tellt ye weel yestreen,
So that's the wey I jined the force and cam tae Aiberdeen.
I wis pittin on the nicht shift and drafted
tae Queen's Cross,
I felt a bittie awkward and sometimes at a loss,
Fan the servin deemies cried me and gaed me the glad eye,
But I aye wis true tae Nancy, milkin Hillie's kye.
I saved and scrapit ilky ???, and got a holiday,
Gaed aff tae see ma Nancy, sae happy and sae gay,
But fan I landed at Hillie's I could scarce believe ma een,
She'd gaen aff and mairried the second lad and cottered at
Killbleen.
I felt so lonely stanin there, but I could only
stand and stare,
My Nancy fair I couldnae see, lonely I would hae tae be,
In the toon o Aiberdeen.
But I pulled masel thegither,
I didnae greet or yell, for there's ither quines in Aiberdeen,
So she can go to…. Onywey she likes! [laughs] And I'll
awa back tae far I'll hear the auld slogan
Bap feet, flat feet, hear the bairnies cry,
Early in the evenin as yer passin by,
Keekin roon the corners, shoutin 'here he goes!',
But ye canna touch a Buchan laddie fed upon the brose.
[applause]
[End of Side A.]
06
[JI]
There wis a craft upon the hill,
Roon the neuk bi Sprottie's mill,
And tryin a his life wi time tae kill,
Wis Geordie McIntyre.
He hid a wife's as sweir as himsel,
And a dochter as black's aul Nick himsel,
We had some fun hud awa the smell,
At the muckin o Geordie's Byre.
Oh the graip it wis tint and the besom wis deen,
And the barra widnae row it's leen,
And siccan a sotter that ivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo the daughter hid tae strae a neep,
The auld wife started tae swipe the graip,
And Geordie fell sklite on a rotten neep,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Ben the byre come Geordie's soo,
And her stood up ahin the coo,
The coo kicket oot and o fit a stew,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Oh the graip it wis tint and the besom wis deen,
And the barra widnae row it's leen,
And siccan a sotter that ivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo they auld wife she wis booin doon,
And the soo got kicket on the croon,
And stappit it's heid in the wifie's goon,
And ben through Geordie's byre.
The daughter came through the barn door,
And seein her mither let oot a roar,
Tae the midden she ran and fell ower a board,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Oh the graip it wis tint and the besom wis deen,
And the barra widnae row it's leen,
And siccan a sotter that ivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo the boar he lowpit the midden dyke,
And ower the rigs wi Geordie's tyke,
They baith fell intill a bumbies byke,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
The cocks and hens began tae cra,
When Bessie astride the soo they sa,
The postie's sheltie ran awa,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Oh the graip it wis tint and the besom wis deen,
And the barra widnae row it's leen,
And siccan a sotter that ivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo a hunner years hae passed and mair,
Far Sprottie's wis the hill is bare,
The craft's awa so ye'll see nae mair,
The muckin o Geordie's byre.
His folks a deid and awa lang syne,
So in case your memory ye should time,
Just whistle is tune tae keep ye in mind,
O the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Oh the graip it wis tint and the besom wis deen,
And the barrow widnae row it's leen,
Nae muckle winner the greip it nivver wis clean
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
[applause]
07
[JI]
Where the Naver meet the sea at the place I long to be,
Where the crofters tend their sheep and make the hay,
Workin on a thrashin mill, back in bonny Bettyhill,
From there you get a view of bonny Naver bay.
You can go to Kirstlemeen, that's the place
beside the sea,
Or ?? a few miles further west,
A but if I had my way I would stay by Naver Bay,
It is a place I dearly lo'e the best.
There's the waters o ???, there's the bonny
hill o ???,
?? and Ben Royal they are grand,
A but how I long to be at my home beside the sea,
In the place that's known as bonny Naver Bay.
Now if ever you come north, you come to my place
of birth,
Forget about Loch Lomond or Loch Tay,
Build your castles in the sand at ?? in ?? land,
In the place that's known as bonny Naver Bay.
[applause]
08
[FM]
Well, for my first traditional ballad, I'd like to sing I
Eence Loo'd a Lass.
I eens looed a lass, and I looed her sae weel,
I hated all others that spoke o her ill,
But noo she's rewarded me weel for my love,
For she's gan tae be wed tae anither.
When I saw my love to the church go,
Wi bridegroom and bridemaidens they made a fine show,
And I followed on wi a hairt full o woe,
For she's gone tae be wed tae anither.
When I saw my love sit doon tae dine,
I sat doon beside her and poured oot the wine,
And I drank tae the lass that should hae been mine,
But she's gone tae be wed tae anither.
The men o yon forest, they askit o me,
How many strawberries grow in the saut sea,
And I askit them back wi a tear in my ee,
How many ships sail in the forest?
Oh dig me a grave and dig it sae deep,
And cover it over wi flowers sae sweet,
And I'll drink tae the lass that should hae been mine,
For she's gone tae be wed tae anither,
Aye, she's gone tae be wed tae anither.
[applause]
09
[FM]
For my bothy ballad, I'm gan tae sing tae ye the een aboot
the fairm doon the road, Drumdelgie
There's a fairmtoon up in Cairnie, that's kent
baith far an wide,
It's ca'd the hash o Drumdelgie on bonny Deveronside.
It's five o'clock that we get up and hurry doon the stair
Tae get oor horses corned and fed, and likewise straik their
hair.
Half an oor at the stable, each tae the kitchie
goes,
Tae get started tae oor brakfast which is generally brose.
We've scarcely got oor brose weel supp'd, an gien oor pints
a tie,
When the grieve he says, 'Hallo, my lads! ye'll be nae langer
nigh.'
Noo at sax o'clock the mull's put on, tae gie
us a stracht wark;
And twa o us his tae work at her, till ye could ring oor sark.
At acht o clock the mull's taen off and we hurry doon the
stair,
Tae get some quarter through the fan till daylicht does appear.
The cloods begin tae gently lift, the sky begins
tae clear,
And the grieve he says, 'Hallo, my lads!, ye'll be nae langer
here!'
It's sax a ye'll gang tae the ploo, an sax tae ca the neeps,
And the owsen they'll be efter you fer they get on their feets.
In pittin on the harness an dra'in oot tae yoke,
The drift dang on sae very thick that we wis like tae choke.
The drift dang on sae very thick, for the ploo she wadna go;
Twas then the cairtin did commence amang the frost an snow.
Noo Drumdelgie keeps a Sunday skweel, he thinks
it is but richt
Tae teach the young and the innocent, the way for tae dae
richt
So fare ye weel, Drumdelgie, I bid ye a adieu
And leave ye as I got ye. A maist unceevil crew!
[applause]
10
[BM]
Here's a wee short bothy ballad, for Rhynie
At Rhynie I shared my first hairst, near tae
the fit o Bennachie
My maister wis richt ill tae suit, but lathe wis I tae tine
ma fee.
Linten-addie, tooran-addie, linten-addie, tooran-ay.
Rhynie's work it's ill tae work, and Rhynie's
wages are but sma',
And Rhynie's laws they're double strict, and that's what grieves
me worst o a'.
Linten-addie, tooran-addie, linten-addie, tooran-ay.
Rhynie it's a cold, clay hole, it's far fae
like ma faither's toon,
And Rhynie, it's a hungry place, it does nae suit a lowland
loon.
Linten-addie, tooran-addie, linten-addie, tooran-ay.
But sair I vrocht and said I foucht and I hae
hae won my penny fee,
And I'll gang back the gait I can, and a better bairnie I
will be.
Linten-addie, tooran-addie, linten-addie, tooran-ay.
At Rhynie I shared my first hairst, near to
the fit o Bennachie,
My maister wis richt ill tae suit, but lathe wis I tae tine
my fee.
Linten-addie, tooran-addie, linten-addie, tooran-ay.
[applause]
11
[BM]
This is a ballad, one of the versions of the story of the
beggarman that, ach gets involved in things he shouldn't really.
There was a jolly beggarman, and he was dressed
in green,
And he was seekin lodgins in a hoose near Aiberdeen.
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, rovin in the
nicht
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, let the moon shine e'er sae
bricht.
And the beggar wouldnae lie in barn, nor would
he lie in byre,
But he would lie intae the ingle neuk by the kitchen fire.
And the beggar he his made his bed, we guid clean strae and
hay,
And in ahint the ingle neuk the jolly beggar lay.
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, rovin in the
nicht
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, let the moon shine e'er sae
bricht.
And the good man's dauchter she's raised up
tae bar the kitchen door,
And there she spied the beggar standing naked on the floor,
And he's taen the lass intae his arms, tae the bed he's ran,
Oh it's holy, holy wi me sir, ye'll waken my good man.
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, rovin in the
nicht
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, let the moon shine e'er sae
bricht.
But the beggar bein a cunning loon, it's ne'er
a word he spak,
Until he's got his job weel done, syne he began tae crack,
Hae ye ony dogs aboot the hoose, or ony cats ava,
For I'm feart ??? my mealie pyokes afore I gan awa.
And the lassie's taen his mealie pyokes, flung
them ower the wa,
Sayin the de'il gang wi yer mealie pyokes, ma maidenheid's
awa.
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, rovin in the
nicht
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, let the moon shine e'er sae
bricht.
He's taen the horn intae his lips, bla'n baith
loud and shrill,
Aye and five and twenty belted knights come ridin ower hill,
And he's taen the knife fae oot his pooch, let his old duddies
fa,
And he wis the brawest belted knife that was amang them a'.
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, rovin in the
nicht
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, let the moon shine e'er sae
bricht.
And if ye had a been a decent lass, as I taen
ye tae be,
I'd a made ye the queen ower a this hale country,
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, rovin in the
nicht
And we'll gang nae mair a-rovin, let the moon shine e'er sae
bricht.
[applause]
back to top |
