1. |
India
04:19
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Those who know poverty
In the place they call Dundee
Cast their minds
Back over the sea
To India
Long ago from the East
Stories of a golden fleece
Resolved a few
To carve out a piece
Of India
And now to the children of Angus
India’s only a name
A sound in the mouth of a stranger
A piece in a history game
But to some who owe nothing to memory
India’s more than a dream
She’s the Ayah, the faceless protector
Who welcomed the infant scream
To India
So it goes everywhere
Some decide how others fare
As true for here
As ever was there
In India
Raised upon banks of Tay
Born five thousand miles away
How fine the tie
That twines us today
With India
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2. |
Golden Golden
04:24
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Slowly, slowly, walk the path
And you might never stumble or fall
Slowly, slowly, walk the path
And you might never fall in love at all
Chorus
Golden, golden, is her hair
Like the morning sun over fields of corn
Golden, golden, is her love
So sweet and clear and warm
Lonely, lonely, is the heart
That ne'er another can call its own
Lonely, lonely, bides the heart
That has to live all alone
Wildly, wildly, beats the heart
With a rush of love like a mountain stream
Wildly, wildly, play your part
As free as a wild bird's dream
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3. |
Mary Morrison
03:54
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Rod Paterson: vocal / acoustic guitar
Kirsten Easdale: backing vocal
Gregor Lowrey: accordion
Marc Duff: low whistle
Pete Clark: fiddle
O Mary, at thy window be!
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor.
How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure -
The lovely Mary Morison!
Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd and said amang them a':-
' Ye are na Mary Morison!'
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown:
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison
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4. |
The Merchant's Son
03:33
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Ae merchant’s son, he’s lived in wrang
Untae the beggin’ he has gane;
He’s louped up upon his steed
Far awa wi pleasure he did ride.
Noo a beggin wench, he’s chanced tae meet,
A beggar wench of low degree.
Noo he’s ta’en pity on her distress,
Sayin’: “Lassie, but you hae a bonny face.”
Noo they’ve inclined tae take a dram
Untae a public hoose they’ve cam;
They’ve drank strong ale ay and whisky too
Till the pair o them got rantin’ roarin’ fu’
Noo they’ve inclined tae go tae bed
And neath the covers they soon were lain;
But the whisky’s gane straight tae their heids;
Till the pair o them jist lay like they were deid.
Noo in the mornin’ this lassie rose
An’ she’s put on the merchant’s clothes
Wi his hat sae high. Wi his sword sae clear
An’ she’s awa wi the gadgie’s gear.
Noo a wee bit later this merchant rose
And lookin’ roon for tae find his clothes
There’s nothing left intae the room,
But a torn petticoat and a wincey goon.
Tae being a stranger untae the toon
This merchant’s pit on the coat an’ goon
An’ doon the street he strode an’ swore
That he never would lie wi a beggar no more
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5. |
The Freedom Come All Ye
03:06
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Roch the wind in the clear day’s dawin
Blaws the cloods heelster-gowdie ow’r the bay,
But there’s mair nor a roch wind blawin
Through the great glen o’ the warld the day.
It’s a thocht that will gar oor rottans
– A’ they rogues that gang gallus, fresh and gay –
Tak the road, and seek ither loanins
For their ill ploys, tae sport and play
Nae mair will the bonnie callants
Mairch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw,
Nor wee weans frae pit-heid and clachan
Mourn the ships sailin’ doon the Broomielaw.
Broken faimlies in lands we’ve herriet,
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mair, nae mair;
Black and white, ane til ither mairriet,
Mak the vile barracks o’ their maisters bare.
So come all ye at hame wi’ Freedom,
Never heed whit the hoodies croak for doom.
In your hoose a’ the bairns o’ Adam
Can find breid, barley-bree and painted room.
When MacLean meets wi’s freens in Springburn
A’ the roses and geans will turn tae bloom,
And a black boy frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o’ the burghers doon.
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6. |
Common Craw
03:15
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I’m jist a craw, a Common Craw
I am nae weel respected,
My status does nae bother me
But whyles I get dejected
For wifies chase me an’ weans thraw stanes
I’m shunned by yin an’ a’
But I can nae help the way I am
I’m jist a Common Craw
The Woodpecker an’ Oyster Catcher
Hae respected trades
An’ Hawks an’ Harriers search and kill
In deadly lightnin’ raids
But I’m no agile in the air
Or clever wi my claw
I’m sort o like nature’s scaffy man
I’m jist a Common Craw
In fine regalia, Peacocks strut
Roon stately gates wi pride
An’ the flashy suited Magpie
He’s jist a conman on the side
I’ve nae need for fancy clathes
I ken I am nae braw
Nae shiney things or stolen rings
I’m jist an honest Craw
I can nae sing a symphony
Like the Laverock in the morn
Nor busk like Tits an’ Finches do
For monkey nuts an’ corn
My voice is like a rusty file
Ye’ll hear me ‘Caw, caw, caw’
I can nae dance to save mysel’
I’m jist a thouless Craw
Some folk say I herald death
That hooded reaper grim
But I’m no supernatural
I merely follow him
I’m like the undertaker
An’ I wear the black an’ a’
To mark respect for them that’s deid
An ordinary Craw
I have nae got an upper hoose
Or lower hoose, or chambers
There’s nae democracy for me
Nor non-elected members
I have nae got a say in things
I dinnae mak the Law
I jist clean up the mess they mak
I’m jist a poor auld Craw
I bide up in the branches
Where I thole the wind an’ rain
I’ve had my share o hunger
An’ I’ve had my share o pain
I feel the chill in Winter
When the icy breezes blaw
I’m nae without my feelin’s
I’m jist a poor auld Craw
So when ye see me
Spare a thought for me, an’ them like me
Who were nae born jist bright enough
To chose the wark we do
I did nae chose the way I am
I drew the shortest straw
I’ve jist accepted nature’s lot
I’m jist a Common Craw
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7. |
Green Grow the Rashes
04:23
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Chorus
Green grow the rashes, O
Green grow the rashes, O
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent among the lasses, O
There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In every hour that passes, O
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O
The war'ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O
But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O,
An' war'ly cares an' war'ly men
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O
For you sae douce, ye sneer at this
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O
Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O
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8. |
Burns Medley
03:10
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'll aye ca' in by yon town,
And by yon garden-green again;
I'll aye ca' in by yon town,
And see my bonie Jean again.
There's nane sall ken, there's nane can guess
What brings me back the gate again,
But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,
And stownlins we sall meet again.
She'll wander by the aiken tree,
When trystin time draws near again;
And when her lovely form I see,
O haith! she's doubly dear again.
Duncan Gray came here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
On blythe Yule night when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Maggie coost her head fu high,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
Spak o' lowpin owre a linn;
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Time and chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Slighted love is sair to bide,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
"Shall I, like a fool," quoth he,
"For a haughty hizzie die?
She may gae to—France for me!"—
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
How it comes let doctors tell,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Meg grew sick as he grew hale,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;
And O! her een, they spak sic things
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Duncan was a lad o' grace,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Maggie's was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
Now they're crouse and cantie baith;
Ha, ha, the wooin o't
My love was born in Aberdeen,
The boniest lad that e'er was seen;
But now he makes our hearts fu' sad -
He takes the field wi' his White Cockade.
Chorus
O, he's a ranting, roving lad!
He is a brisk an' a bonie lad!
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi' the White Cockade!
I'll sell my rock, my reel, my tow,
My guid gray mare and hawkit cow,
To buy mysel a tartan plaid,
To follow the boy wi' the White Cockade
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9. |
Oor Hamlet
03:43
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Rod Paterson: vocal
There was this king sitting in his gairden all alane
When his brother, and his heir poured a tate o' henbane
And stole his brother's crown, his money and his widow
So the dead king went and got his son and said "Hey listen, kiddo
"I've been killed, and it's your duty tae tak revenge on Claudius
Kill him quick and clean and tell the nation what a fraud he is"
The laddie says " I'll dae it. But I'll need tae play it crafty
So as nae bodie will suspect me, I'll kid on that I'm a dafty"
So tae a’ except Horatio, cuz he trusts him as a friend
Hamlet, that's the boy, kids on he's round the bend
Because he was nae ready for obligatory killing
He’s even made the king think he wis tuppence aff the shilling
Took the mickey oot Polonius, treats poor Ophelia vile
Telt Rosencrantz and Guildenstern that Denmark wis a jail
Till a troupe of travellin actors, like Seven Eighty-four
Arrived tae dae a special one night gig in Elsinore
Hamlet! Hamlet! Loved his mammy
Hamlet! Hamlet! Acting barmy
Hamlet! Hamlet! Hesitatin'
Wonders if the ghost's a cheat
And that is how he's waitin'
Then Hamlet wrote a scene for the players to enact
So as Horatio and him could watch to see if Claudius cracked
The play was called "The Mousetrap" (no’ the one that's runnin noo)
But sure enough, the king walks oot afore the scene wis through
So Hamlet's got the proof that Claudius gied his dad the dose
The only problem bein’ noo, that Claudius knows he knows
And as he tells his Ma that her new husband's no’ a fit one
Uncle Claude pits oot a contract wi the English king as hit man
Then when Hamlet killed Polonius, to conceal corpus delecti
Uncle Claude wis quick tae send him for the English hempen necktie
Wi Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to mak sure he got there
Wee Hammy jumps the boat and pits the finger on thon pair
Meanwhile Leartes heard his da had been stabbed through the arras
Cam racin’ back tae Elsinore, toot-sweet, hot foot frae Paris
Ophelia, wi her dad killed by the man she wished tae marry
Efter saying it w flooers, she’s committed hari-cari
Hamlet! Hamlet! Nae messin'!
Hamlet! Hamlet! Learnt his lesson!
Hamlet! Hamlet! Yorick's crust
Convinced him that men, good or bad
At last must come to dust
Then Leartes lost the place and wis demandin retributions.
So the king said "Keep the hied, and I'll provide you a solution"
A sword fight wis arranged for the interested perties,
A bluntit sword for Hamlet, but a sharp one for Leartes.
Tae mak things double sure, the old "belt an’ braces" line,
He’s fixed a poison sword tip, and a poison cup of wine.
O Hamlet’s got the sword tip but Leartes went and muffed it
'Cause he got stabbed himsel, and he confessed afore he snuffed it
Then Hamlet's mother drank the wine, and when her face turned blue
Hamlet says "I quite believe the king's a baddie noo
"Incestuous, murderous, damned Dane," he cried,to be precise
Then made up for hesitatin by killin Claudius twice
He stabbed him wi the sword tip, forced the wine atween his lips
Then cried "The rest is silence" That wis Hamlet had his chips
They fired a volley o’er him that shook the topmost rafter.
And Fortinbras, knee-deep in Danes, lived happily ever after
Hamlet! Hamlet! A’ the gory
Hamlet! Hamlet! End of story
Hamlet! Hamlet! I'm away
If you think this is borin’
You should read the bloody play
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10. |
Inveraray Summer Nights
03:54
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O when my work is done and daylight fades away
And the last coach has gone for the day
And the sun sinks in the Western sky
Makes me think of days when you and I
Would wander off alone
Along the shingle of Loch Fyne
We would take a piece of driftwood from the shore
And pretend that it looked like something more
More like a wild horse or an aeroplane
Come to take us far across the main
For even then your dreams were
So very far away from mine
Chorus
My dream was life in Kintyre
Your sea was wider
Your sky was higher
You left me Tarbert Lights
And Inverary summer nights
They’ll always make me think of you
Well, there’s a strange kind of song on the breeze
Like a message sent from you across the sea
And it’s telling me to look around
At all the beauty in the hills and in the town
And know that there is nowhere
In the World I’d rather be
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11. |
Alteren's Sacrament
03:54
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O Jesus at your altar fit
We boo oor knee tae bend
An’ there we seek a sauf remede
Oor dwinin’ sauls tae mend
Your haly biddin gars us come
As guests untae a waddin’ boord
Tae feed upon your manna
Gie us a blisset taste O Lord
That we may gie baith Laud and Gloire
And sing a loud Hosanna
Let pleesure-looin lickrish race
Wi heckin’ gar them grue
Rin tae the mallin, stow their face
An’ stap their waims richt fu
Tae ilk excess they are na’ laith
But ay the Lord has spread a boord
Wi claith for me tae dine
An’ wi his boonty I’m mair content
Were I the gowd O ilk land sent
An’ a’ the hale Warld mine
We’ll mind on ye Jesus oor Lord
In speirit, heart an’ thocht
Sae lang as bread is wrought frae corn
An’ grapes frae vines are sought
Where e’er the Haly bread does brak
Baith young an’ auld shall naethin’ lack
They shall the guid Lord’s daith proclaim
Till ye appear ‘mang us forever
Intae your kinrick etern to gaither
For ay tae rax us hame
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12. |
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Rattlin, roarin Willie,
He held untae the fair,
For to sell his fiddle
And buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,
The saut tear blin't his e'e -
Rattlin, roarin Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me!
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
Come sell your fiddle sae fine!
Willie come sell your fiddle
And buy a pint o' wine!'
If I was to sell my fiddle,
The warld would think I was mad;
Monie’s the rantin day
My fiddle and I hae had.'
Rattlin roarin Willie,
Whaur hae ye been sae late?
I’ve been to see my Peggy.
Sae weel as I ken the gate
Sae weel as I ken the gate
An’ the tirlin o the pin
Gang I late or early
She’ll rise and let me in.
As I cam by Crochallan,
I cannily keekit ben,
Rattlin, roarin Willie
Was sitting at yon boord-en':
Sitting at yon boord-en',
And amang guid companie!
Rattlin, roarin Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me
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13. |
The Bawbee Birlin'
02:56
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O the time will come, well the auld man said
When the servant slumbers in his master’s bed
If he’s no’ ower busy working overtime instead
An’ a’ for the birlin’ o the bawbee o’t
An’ the hour will ding when a’ the young men cry
That the gowd and the tyke has ta’en a thin disguise
There wis nae guarantee that whit their masters did was wise-like
A’ for the birlin’ o the bawbee o’t
Chorus
The bawbee o’t the bawbee o’t
The birlin o the bawbee o’t
It’s no’ for a penny, nor a shillin’, nor a groat
But a’ for the birlin’ o the bawbee o’t
An’ the day will dawn when all the auld men see
That the shape an’ form o ony apple tree
Has mair to recommend irsel’ afore the spirits flee
An’ nane for the birlin’ o the bawbee o’t
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14. |
Thou Gloomy December
04:25
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Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember-
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair!
Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
Is anguish unmingled, and agony pure!
Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown;
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Till my last hope and last comfort is gone.
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair
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15. |
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O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allen cam to see;
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wadna found in Christendie.
Chorus
We are na fou, we're nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.
Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!
It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkin' in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee!
Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
He is the King amang us three.
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Bring In The Spirit Scotland, UK
Rod Paterson. Kirsten Easdale, Gregor Lowrey, Marc Duff, Pete Clark & the late Lionel McClelland toured and performed
traditional & contemporary Scots song as 'Bring In The Spirit' for a decade.
A studio album of 15 of their favourite tracks will be released as a download on March 25th 2024.
... more
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