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01-02
Let's now commence with Richard
Macdonald from Elgin. Richard [applause]. Richard's going
to be the first [interference on recording]
[RM] In the old days every big farm had their
miller. And millers were gey lads, there's many songs written
about them, and this is just one. Sound I'm trying to create
is the sound of the mill in the background. And the song's
called [makes rhythm of mill with hands on table] I am a miller
tae my trade.
I am a miller tae ma trade, a job fu weel ye
ken-o,
I am a miller tae ma trade, a job fu weel ye ken-o,
I am a miller tae ma trade, aye and monies a bag o meal I've
made,
Aye, and courted monies a fair young maid in ahin the bags
o meal-o.
It happened ae nicht in June fan I wis in masel-o,
It happened ae nicht in June fan I wis in masel-o,
A lassie came slippin doon the lane, I seen yer mill ???,
So I thocht that I wid jist look in, tae see you were in yersel-o.
Yer welcome here my bonnie lass, yer welcome
here for aye-o,
Yer welcome here my bonnie lass, yer welcome here for aye-o,
Yer welcome here my bonnie lass, and whit's the news that
I maun hear,
Will you consent to be my dear, in ahin the bags o meal-o.
The larkin lassie gaed a smile and said she
couldnae tell-o,
The larkin lassie gaed a smile and said she couldnae tell-o,
The larkin lassie gaed a smile, said she, young man you'll
wait a while,
Next time yer mill's a clatterin in, ye'll hae me tae yersel-o.
I am a miller tae ma trade, a job fu weel ye
ken-o,
I am a miller tae ma trade, a job fu weel ye ken-o,
I am a miller tae ma trade, aye and monies a bag of meal I've
made,
Aye and courted monies a fair young maid in ahin the bags
o meal-o.
[applause]
03-04
It's the story about a tinker
lad at made his way in life and very proud of his life, and
he's away tae be married, and he'd just like his fiancee to
know just what his life was before and how proud he was about
it. It's called Donnie MacPhail.
Belle, ma dear, will ye be of good cheer,
I've a couple o things I must say,
Before ye decide if ye'll be my young bride,
And start planning for our wedding day.
I'm Donnie MacPhail fae the hills o Kintail,
And I've plenty o money to spend,
But I've known troubles and cares when the shillings were
scarce,
When I tramped wi the travellers band.
By King George's rule I was still at the school,
When my faither he died o the drink,
Now there's gey little joy for a wee gadgie boy,
When the ither bairns ken ye're a tink.
They call you names you can't join in their
games,
For ye canna get used tae their ways,
So you learn how to fight for the things that are right,
Or get tramped on the rest o yer days.
Brither John wis a bairn in my auld mither's
airms,
When we jined ??? McMannacle[?] squad,
He lay in a creel, in a cauld tattie dreel,
Happit up wi my mammie's auld coat .
We earned oor pay, saiven shillins a day,
We were pickin a twenty yard stint ,
And on Saturday, we'd a get wir pay,
And on Monday we'd be pretty near skint.
October's mist, and November's cruel frost,
And it's off to big Wattie fae Perth,
We slept in the damp o a Nissen hut camp,
It wis warmer than caul winter's earth.
We left the squad when the neeps were a shod,
And December's cauld blast whistled in,
For they used the hut tae winter the nowt,
And it's back tae the trampin again.
But I've grafted hard for my scrap metal yard,
And a shillin or twa tae ma name,
Noo I've been a gey lad, but it's nae been a bad,
And there's nae man'll pit me tae shame.
Whit's past is aye past and the memories last,
Are what a man maks o himsel,
So Belle, if you'll be mine, I'll look aifter ye fine,
Till it sna's in the furnace o hell.
So Belle, I'll look aifter ye fine,
Till it sna's in the furnace o hell.
[applause]
[laughs and applause]
05
[JA] Thank you for the marvellous introduction. Well eh, I'll
start off wi ma traditional first. The Twa Gadgies.
Well I met twa gadgies doon a road, quarrellin
like tae kill,
Gan it wis sax or sivven miles tae yon toon oot ower the hill,
Well I hae my supper in my pyok and a my time is free,
And be it sax or sivven miles tae some toon, well whit's the
odds tae me.
Noo I tramps the country up and doon, at monies
an orra job I'm hired,
But I see nae sense in raxin masel, na 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 sivven miles tae some toon, well whit's the
odds tae me.
Noo I've nivver taen tae the wimmen fowk, nae
doobt they've nivver taen tae me,
So the road I maun tak is a lonely road, wi for was noo I
guidnae far tae,
And the bed I maun mak is a lonely bed, hin some dyke or below
some tree,
And be it sax or sivven miles tae some toon, well whit's the
odds tae me.
Well I pity fowk o gentle birth, tied up wi
parasols and pedigrees,
Gan they could throw their shackles aff, then like me they'd
be truly free,
For I wis born hin a dry stane dyke, hin a dry stane dyke
I'll die,
And be it sax or sivven miles tae some toon, well what's the
odds tae me.
[applause]
06-07
[JA] Well aifter a week
o practisin The Dyin Ploughboy [laughs], I've decided to sing
something else. See this how he's died twice this afternoon
already! Beautiful song. Eh. Think I'll try Bogie's Bonnie
Belle. Ye'll help me oot Sandy if I stick. Just wi the words,
nae wi the tune [laughs].
Ae Whitsuntide at Huntly toon, twas there I
did agree,
Wi aul Bogieside the fairmer, a sax-month for tae fee;
Auld Bogie wis a surly cull, and this I knew fu well,
But he had a lovely dauchter, and her name was Isabelle
Noo, Belle she wis the bonniest lass, in a the
countryside,
And very soon I lost ma hairt, tae the belle o Bogieside,
And aften in the summer's nicht, I'd wander wi ma dear,
Tae watch the trooties loupin by Bogie's watter clear.
Though weel I kent I wis nae match, for Bogie's
bonnie Belle,
When ere she turned her een on me, she fairly cast a spell;
I tried in vain tae keep awa when it cam tae eventide,
But in a dream I'd wander til we met on Bogieside.
Twas jist afore the term time auld Bogie sent
for me,
And says wi face as black as nicht, it's you I want tae see;
If what my daughter says is true, we can nae langer agree,
And it's doon the road ye'll gang withoot a penny o yer fee.
Says I, auld man yer fairly richt, I hung ma
heid in shame,
But I will mairry Belle the morn and gie tae her my name;
He cursed and swore and in his rage he said that raither he,
Would see his daughter lyin deid than mairried unto me.
Though I wis bit a plooman chiel, I thocht he
wis gey sair,
Though hard it wis tae part wi her, I didnae say nae mair,
But packed my kist and left the toon, puir Belle I didnae
see,
I wis that mad I niver soucht the wages due to me.
And noo she's awa tae a tinkler chiel, his nickname's
Souter John,
She hawks his pans and roosers, aroon by Fogieloan;
They say auld Bogie rues the day that he did rave and yell,
But twas me wha had the first guid nicht wi Bogie's bonnie
Belle.
[applause; slight break in tape]
08
[ES]
Doon yonder den there's a plooman lad,
And some summer's day he'll be a my ain.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
I love his teeth and I love his skin,
I love the very cairt he hurls in.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
Doon yonder den I could a got a millert,
But the smell o dust wis hae daen me ill.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
Doon yonder den I could a got a merchant,
But a his things werenae worth a groat.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
I see him comin fae yonder toon,
Wi a his ribbons hingin roon and roon.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
And noo she's courtin her plooman lad,
As bare as ever he left the ploo.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
And sin laddie o and sin laddie aye,
The plooman laddies are a' the go.
[applause]
Thank you Elizabeth. Our next one is Les Wheeler
from Aberdeen [applause].
09
[LW] Just the ballad. Aye.
This is a song that I aye forget the tune o. It's 125 years
old and it was collected at the time when the word 'depression'
first came into the language used in an economic sense. And
eh, I think it's as true the day as it was then.
Nae winner the times mak us a discontented,
For faith the puir fairmers hiv cause tae complain;
Their meal is cheap sellin, their fairms high rented,
And sma is their profit when sellin their grain.
Some may think some ither and neither och widder,
The crops torn doon wi the torrents o rain,
Like cattle that's parkit will no mak the market,
Will just pack them in for a twa month again.
It's aff tae a herd my auld granny ??,
At fairmin and herdie that woulda been mine;
There wis plenty o siller and mealie weel sellin,
It maks her richt way when she thinks on lang syne.
But this cursed gentry they wak oot on sentry,
They coont their ?? and babee that they've won;
Walks oot at their leisure, rise up at their pleesure,
Like Solomon's lilies, they care nane a spin.
But we'll fill up a nappy and tak a wee drappie,
And aye be contented wherever we go,
Nae langer this nation will thole the oppression,
The Laird and the Factor will get on our throw.
[applause]
10
[Gordon Easton] I wis some like Joe, I wis practisin a certain
sang and it's gone, but this is een, the tune's played an
affa lot, but the sang's nivver aften sung. So it's The Muckin
o Geordie's Byre.
At a lyrical craft upon the hill,
Aroon the neuk by Sprottie's mill,
Drawin a' his life his time tae kill,
Wis Geordie McIntyre.
Noo he hid a wife's as sweir as himsel,
And a dauchter as black's aul Nick himsel;
There wis some fun haud awa the smell,
At the muckin o Geordie's Byre.
Fan the graip wis tint the besom wis deen,
The barra widna row its leen,
And siccan a sauce that nivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo the daughter started 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.
Seen ben the greep come Geordie's soo,
And she stood up ahin the coo;
The coo kicket oot and o fit a stew,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Fan the graip wis tint the besom wis deen,
The barra widna row its leen,
And siccan a sauce that nivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo they auld wife she wis booin doon,
The soo got kicket on the croon;
She shoved her heid in the wifie's goon,
And ben through Geordie's byre.
The daughter came through the barn door,
On hearin her mither let oot a roar,
Tae the midden she ran and fell ower the board,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Fan the graip wis tint the besom wis deen,
The barra widna row its leen,
And siccan a sauce that nivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Seen the boar he lapped the midden dyke,
And ower the rigs wi Geordie's tyke;
They baith run intil a bumbies byke,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
The cocks and hens began tae cra,
When Betty astride the soo they sa,
In the postie's sheltie ran awa,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Fan the graip wis tint the besom wis deen,
The barra widna row its leen,
And siccan a sauce that nivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Noo a hunner years hae passed and mair,
Far's Geordie's wis the hill is bare;
Noo the craft's awa so ye'll see nae mair,
O the muckin o Geordie's byre.
He'd folks a' deid and awa langsyne,
So in case your memory ye should tine,
Fustle is tune tae keep ye in mind,
O the muckin o Geordie's byre.
Fan the graip wis tint the besom wis deen,
The barra widna row its leen,
And siccan a sauce that nivver wis seen,
At the muckin o Geordie's byre.
11
[GE] Noo this is the penalty
for growin aul. Bonnie Bessie Logan.
Noo Bonnie Bessie Logan, she's handsome, young
and fair,
And the very wind that bla's, it lingers in her hair;
She's aye sae fleet and bonnie as she steps ower the lee,
But bonnie Bessie Logan aye, she's ower-young for me.
Noo bonnie Bessie Logan, a' the lads they like
her style,
And convoy er up the pathway jist tae see her winning smile;
I fain would be among them, but oh na that cannae be,
For bonnie Bessie Logan she's ower young for me.
Noo bonnie Bessie Logan, she stole my hairt
awa,
And fen I think upon her noo the tears doon softly fa,
But I'll hae tae live withoot her until the day I die,
For bonnie Bessie Logan aye, she's ower young for me.
Noo bonnie Bessie Logan, I sa her late yestreen,
Wi a rosebud in her bosom, aye and love licht in her een;
I would fear the lad that pu'd that rose, is gang tae win
his plea,
For bonnie Bessie Logan aye, she's ower young for me.
[applause]
12
We've the last of our lady
bothy ballad singers now - Morven Jessiman from Turriff [applause].
Neeps tae Pluck
Twis on a Martinmas market day, the snow lay
on the ground,
Fen a fairmer he went up tae a lad and he offered him ten
pounds,
But mine ye've neeps tae pluck in oot the muck,
And a hunner ither jobs forbye,
And seein the guid wife she's laid doon,
Ye winna mine milkin the kye.
Up spoke the lad, oh he wis mad, fit wis this
ye said,
That ye'd mak me a fairmer's loon intil a dairy maid,
Oh yer neeps ah'll pluck, yer nowt ah'll muck,
An dae ony ither jobs forbye,
But I'm blessed if I will undertake tae milk yer bloomin kye.
Oh haud yer tongue, the fairmer said, and nae
mak sic a soun,
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.
Oh that's nae ees the laddie said, I've heard
that tale afore,
And I maun 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 deem haein a quaet crack;
That'll be the guid wife, the laddie thocht, och I'm gled
she's nae laid doon,
For I dinna want to the 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 wunner that a woman wi a face like that, she disnae
put yer coos a' dry,
Aye, she disnae put your coos a dry.
13, 14, 15,
16, 17, 18
not transcribed yet.
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