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Blow, ye Winds, Blow

She went for a walk one Summer’s day
Blow, blow, blow, ye winds blow
An she met wi the Devil by the way
An the dreary winds did blow her plaidie awa

For you’ll wash tae me 3 Holland shirts
Without no seams nor needle work

An you’ll dry them up wi one blink o an eye
An ye’ll put them in a sant in-bye

For it’s when I do that task for ye
Then surely ye’ll do one for me

For ye’ll take tae me 3 acres of land
Between yon salt sea an yon sea strand

For ye’ll sow it ower wi one pile o corn
An ye’ll reap it up wi one blink o sun

For ye’ll shear it doon wi a pea-hen feather
An stook it up wi the stang o an edder

An ye’ll yoke two sparrows in a match box
An you’ll cart it home to my ain farm yard

And it’s when ye’ve done for me that task
You come right back and ye’ll get yer sarks!

Nighean nan geug

A nighean nan geug ,
(Girl with the sticks)
bho hao ri o

A-muigh leis an spréidh,
(Out with the cattle)
bho hao ri o han ,
bho hao ri o

Na gabh eagal neo fiamh
(Don’t be afraid)

Tha mise an seo siar
(I am here)

Nach truagh leat mo chlann
(don’t you feel sorry for my children?)

Bean eile nan ceann
(another woman in charge)

Dham bualadh gu teann
(beating them too often)

Dham biadhadh gu gann
(feeding them too little)

'S an athair 's a' ghleann
(their father out in the glen)

Tha mise an seo siar
(I am here)


Tam Glen

Robert Burns (the “Ploughman Poet”)
lived 1759 – 1796, first published 1786

My heart is a breakin, dear tittie,
Some counsel unto me come len’,
To anger them a’ is a pity,
But what will I do wi Tam Glen?

I’m thinkin’ wi sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might mak a fen’;
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen?

There’s Lowrie the Laird o Dumeller –
‘Gude day to you, brute!’ he comes ben:
He brags and he blaws o his siller,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

My Minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o young men;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
But wha can think sae o Tam Glen?

My faither says gin I’ll forsake him,
He’ gie me gude hunder mark ten;
But if it’s ordain’d I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?

Yestreen at the Valentine’s dealing,
My heart to my mou’ gied a sten’;
For thrice I drew ain without failing,
And thrice it was written, ‘Tam Glen’!

The last Hallowe’en I was waulkin
My droukit sark sleeve, as ye ken,
His likeness came up the house staukin,
And the very grey breeks o Tam Glen!

Come counsel, dear tittie , don’t tarry;
I’ll gie ye my bonnie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo’e dearly, Tam Glen.

Dà Làimh ’s a Phìob
(2 Hands for the Pipes)

Dà làimh ’s a phìob, làmh ’s a chlaidheamh (x3)
(Two Hands for the pipes, a hand for the sword)
’S truagh an duigh bhith gun trì lamhan
(It’s a pity today to be without three hands)

Binnorie

Twa bonnie sisters lived in a bower
Binnorie, o Binnorie
And there cam a nicht tae be their wooer
By the bonnie mill dams o Binnorie

He’s courted ane wi glove and ring
But he’s loved the youngest aboon a thing

“O sister, sister, tak my hand”
“And we’ll watch oor faither’s ships come in tae land”

The youngest sister stood on a stane
And the eldest pushed her intae the brim

“O sister, sister, reach me your hand”
“And ye’ll be the lady o’er half my land”

“O I’ll nae reach to ye my hand”
“And I’ll be the lady o’er a yer land”

“O sister, sister, reach me your glove”
“And sweet William shall be your love”

“O I’ll nae reach to ye my glove”
“And sweet William shall be my love”

“It wasnae for that that I danged ye in”
“But ye wis fair and I wis din”

Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam
Until she cam tae the miller’s dam

The miller’s son cam by the dam
Sayin there’s either a maid or a milk white swan

The miller he drew in the dam
And it’s there they found the drowned woman

They couldna see her middle sae sma
Her gowden girtle was girt sae braw

They couldna see her lang yellow hair
For the strings o pearls entwined there

They made a harp o her briest bane
Wha’s notes would have melted a heart o stane

The first tune that they played thereon
Was “woe tae ma sister, the faus Helen”

Òran na Maighdainn Mhara
(Song of the Sea Maiden)

Hù-bha is na hoireann hù-bha
Hù-bha is na hoireann hi 
Hù-bha is na hoireann hù-bha
‘S ann le foill a mheall thu mi 
(It was with trickery you betrayed me)

A mach air bhàrr nan stuagh ri gaillinn
(Out on the crest of the storm’s wave)
Fuachd is feannadh fad o thìr 
(Cold and chill far from land)
Bha mo ghaol dhut doannan fallain
(My love for you was trustworthy, strong)
Ged is maighdeann mhara mi 
(Though I am just a maiden of the sea)

Chan eil mo chadal-sa ach luaineach
(My sleep is nothing but restless)
'Nuair bhios buaireas air an tìd'
(When there is violence in the weather)
Bha mi 'n raoir an Coirre Bhreacainn
(Last night I was in Corryvreckan)
'S bi mi nochd an Eilean I
(And I will be in Iona tonight)

Seall is faic an grunnd na fairge 
(Look and see the sea bed)
Uamhan airid ’s òir gun dìth 
(Caves of silver and gold without end)
Lainnearachd chan fhaca sùil e 
(Glittering no eye ever saw)
Ann an cùirt no lùchairt rì 
(In the court or palace of a king)

The Grey Selkie

There lived a maid in the Norway Lands
“Hush ba loo lilly” did she sing
“I dinna ken whaur my babe’s father is,
Nor the lands he travels in”

Now it happened on one stormy night
As this fair maid laid fast asleep
That in there came a grey selkie
And laid himself down at her feet

Crying “Awake, awake, my pretty maid!
Awake, awake from thy sleep
I’ll tell thee where thy babe’s father is
He’s lying down at thy bed feet”

“I am a man upon the land
A grey selkie in the sea
And I do come from the wastard o Hoy
Which wise men call Sule Skerrie

“My name it is good Hyne Malair
I earn my living by the sea
And when I’m far from every shore
Then I am in Sule Skerrie”

“What a weary fate’s been laid for me
That there should come a grey selkie
From the wastard o Hoy to the Norway land
To have a bairnie wi me”

“O I will wed thee with a ring
With a ring my dear I’ll wed wi thee”
“Thou may wed thee’s weds wi whom thou wilt
But thou’ll ne’er wed none wi me”

“Then thou shalt nurse thy little wee son
Seven long years upon thy knee
And at the end of seven years
I’ll come and pay thy nurse’s fee”

It’s o, she’s nursed her little wee son
For seven long years upon her knee
And he’s come back a gay gentleman
Wi a coffer of gold monie

“I’ll wed thee with a ring, “ she cried
“Wi a ring my dear I’ll wed wi thee”
“Thou may wed thee’s weds wi whom thou wilt
But thou’ll ne’er wed none wi me”

“But you will get a gunner good
Aye a good gunner he will be
And he’ll gaeng out on a Mey morning
And shoot the son and the grey selkie

“I’ll put a gold chain about his neck
And a gey good gold chain it will be
That if he e’er comes to the Norway lands
Well knowed he may be”

And o she got a gunner good
Aye a good gunner was he
And he gaed out one May morning
And shot the son and the grey selkie

“For you have shot good Hyne Malair
And o he was right kind to me”
She gied a sigh, sobbed aince or twice
Then her heart did brak in three.

Òran Leannain Sìdhe
(Song of the Fairy Lover)

Huraibh i, huraibh i hao ha ro ha
Huraibh i, huraibh i hao ha ro ha

Chuala mi do glaodh ‘sa bhruthaich
(I heard your cry on the brae)
Hi ribh i hao air fa ralaleo
Ged a chuala cha d’ chuir umhail
(If I heard, I didn’t give it notice)
Hi ribh i hao air fa ralaleo
Gus an cualas guth an fhithich
(Until was heard the voice of the raven)
Hi ribh i hao air fa ralaleo

Huraibh i, huraibh i hao ha ro ha
Huraibh i, huraibh i hao ha ro ha

Gus an cualas guth an fhithich
(Until was heard the voice of the raven)
Hi ribh i hao air fa ralaleo
Fuil do chuim ’sa fhraoch a’ sruthadh
(Blood of your body in the heather, streaming)
Hi ribh i hao air fa ralaleo

Huraibh i, huraibh i hao ha ro ha
Huraibh i, huraibh i hao ha ro ha

Lord Lovat

Lord Lovat he stands at his stable door
He was brushing his milk-white steed
When who passed by, but Lady Nancy Bell
She was wishing her lover God speed
She was wishing her lover God speed

“Oh  where are you going, Lord Lovat?” she cried
“Come promise, tell me true!”
“It’s over the sea, strange countries tae see,
Lady Nancy Bell, I’ll come and see you
Lady Nancy Bell, I’ll come and see”

O he wasnae awa but a year or twa
It had scarcely been three
When a mightiful dream cam intae his heid
“Lady Nancy Bell, I’ll come and see you
Lady Nancy Bell, I’ll come and see”

As he rade in by Keppleton Kirk
And doon by Mary Ha
A the ladies were weepin for her
A the ladies were weepin for

“Oh wha is deid?” Lord Lovat he cried
“Come promise, tell me true”
“Lady Nancy Bell died for her ain true love’s sake
An Lord Lovat it was his name
An Lord Lovat it was his name.”

He’s ordered the coffin tae be opened up
an the white sheet tae be drawn doon
An he’s kissed her on the cauld clay lips
And the tears cam trinklin doon (x2)

Fine Flowers

She lay doon, below a thorn
Fine Flowers in the valley
And it’s there she has her sweet babe born
And the green leaves they grow rarely

Smile nae sae sweet, my bonnie, bonnie babe
Oh ye’ll smile sae sweet ye’ll smile me deid

She’s taken oot her little penknife
And she’s twined that bairnie o his life

She’s howkit a grave by the licht o the moon
And it’s there she’s buried her sweet babe in

When she was goin’ intil the church
She spied a babe lyin in the porch

Oh bonnie babe, would thou were mine
I’d wrap thee in satins and silks sae fine

Mither, mither, when I was thine
Ye didna treat tae me sae kind

Bonn Beann Eadarra / Colann gun Cheann
(Foot of Ben Eadarra - Corpse without a Head)

’S fhada bhuam fhìn bonn Beann Eadarra
(it is far from me, the foot of Ben Eadarra)
’S fhada bhuam fhìn bealach a Mhorbhain
(it is far from me the pass of Morbhan)
’S fhada bhuam fhìn bonn Beann Eadarra
(it is far from me, the foot of Ben Eadarra)
’S fhada gun teagamh bhuam bealach a’ Mhorbhain
(it is without doubt far from me, the pass of Morbhan)

Cùl am mullaichean, beul am bealaichean
(back of the summits, mouth of the passes)
Cùl am mullaichean, mullach Sron Bhiornail
(back fo the summits, summit of Sron Bhiornail)
(repeat)

O bhonn gu bonn, bonn Beann Eadarra
(from foot to foot, the foot of Ben Eadarra)
O bhonn gu bonn, Bealach a Mhorbhain
(from foot to foot, the pass of Morbhan)
O bhonn gu bonn, bonn Beann Eadarra
(from foot to foot, the foot of Ben Eadarra)
’S fhada gun teagamh bhuam bealach a’ Mhorbhain
(it is without doubt far from me, the pass of Morbhan)

Dh’fhàg mi’n crodh-laoigh am bonn Beinn Eadarra
(I left my dairy cattle at the foot of Ben Eadarra)
Dh’fhàg mi’n crodh-laoigh am bealach a Mhorbhain
(I left my dairy cattle at the pass of Morbhan
Dh’fhàg mi’n crodh-laoigh am bonn Beinn Eadarra
(I left my dairy cattle at the foot of Ben Eadarra)
’S fhada gun teagamh bhuam bealach a’ Mhorbhain
(it is without doubt far from me, the pass of Morbhan)

(repeat v 2) Cùl am mullaichean, beul am bealaichean

(repeat v 3) O bhonn gu bonn, bonn Beann Eadarra

True Thomas

True Thomas lay on Huntly Bank
A fairy he spied wi his e’e
An there he saw a lady bricht
Come ridin doon by the Eildon Tree

Her skirt was o the grass green silk
Her mantle o the velvet fine
At ilka tett o her horse’s reins
Hung 50 siller bells an nine

True Thomas he pu’ed off his cap
an louted low upon his knee
Sayin ‘Hail to thee, Mary Queen of Heaven’
For yer peer on earth could never be

‘Oh no, oh no, Thomas,’ she said
‘That name does not belang tae me,
I’m but the queen o fair Elfland,
That’s hither come tae visit thee.’

‘Harp an carp, Thomas,’ she said,
‘Harp an carp alang wi me,
For if ye dare tae kiss my lips,
Sure of yer body I will be.’

‘Well, betide me weel or betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunten me!’
An he has kissed her ruby lips
All underneath the Eildon Tree

‘Now ye maun come wi me,’ she said
‘True Thomas ye maun come wi me,
An ye maun serve me seven years,
Through weel or woe as might chance tae be.’

She’s mounted up her milk-white steed
An taen True Thomas up behind
An aye whenever her bridle rang
The horse ran faster that the wind

An they rade on an further on
The horse ran faster than the wind
Until they came tae a desert wide
An living land was far behind

It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight
They’ve waded through red blood on either hand
For all the blood that’s shed on earth
Flows through the rivers of that land

She’s gien True Thomas a mantle grey
An gien him shoon o the velvet green
An while seven long years were come and gone
True Thomas on Earth was never seen

Thig am Bàta
(The Boat Will Come)

Thig am bàta, hug o
(The boat will come)
Moch a màireach, hug o
(In the morning)
Bidh m’ athair innte, hi ri oro
(My father will be in it)
‘S mo thriùir bhràithrean, hug o
(and my three brothers)

‘S mo cheile donn,
(and my beloved)
Air ràmh bràthad
(at the oar)
Gheibh iad mise,
(They will get me)
Air mo bhàthadh
(on my drowning - ie they will find me drowned)
Togaidh iad mi,
(they will lift me)
Air na ràmhan
(on the oars)
Mo bhreacan donn,
(my dun patterened cloak)
Snàmh na fairge
(swimming in the ocean)
Cha b’e ’n t-acras,
(It won’t be hunger)
Chuir do’n traigh mi
(Put me to the shore)
Miann an duileasg,
(desire for dulse)
Miann nam beàrnach
(desire for seafood)
Soiridh eile,
(another greeting)
Gu mo phàisdean
(to my children)
Fear ac dà bhliadhn’,
(one of two years old)
Fear ac bliadhna
(one of a year old)
Am fear bliadhna,
(the one-year-old)
Nach eil laidir
(not strong)
Dh’fhàg mi e,
(I left him)
Anns a’ chùlaist
(in the little room)
Iarraidh e nochd,
(tonight he will want)
Cìoch a mhàthar
(his mother’s breast)
Ma dh’iarr chan fhaigh e,
(He may want but won’t get)
Ach sùgan sàile
(but a salty drink)
O mo mhallachd,
(Oh, my curses)
Aig bean eudaich
(on the jealous woman)
Dh’fhàg i mise,
(She left me)
’S an sgeir bhàthte
(on the rock of drowning)
Thig am bàta,
(the boat will come)
Moch a màireach
(In the morning)
Gheibh iad mise,
(They will get me)
Air mo bhàthadh
(on my drowning)

Annie of Lochroyan

"O wha will shoe my bonny foot?
And wha will glove my hand?
And wha will bind my middle sma
Wi' a lang, lang linen band?
"O wha will kame my yellow hair,
With a new-made silver kame?
And who will faither my bonnie young son,
Till Lord Gregory come hame?" -

"Your father will shoe your bonny foot,
Your mother will glove your hand,
Your brother will bind your middle sma
Wi' a lang, lang linen band
Your sister will came your yellow hair
With a new-made silver kame,
And God will faither your bonnie young son,
Till Lord Gregory come hame." -

"O wha will build me a bonny boat,
To sail upon the sea;
So I may sail the seven seas
And find Lord Gregory,
Her faither’s gart built a bonny boat,
To sail upon the sea;
Wi four and twenty mariners,
To bear her company

She hadna sailed but twenty leagues,
But twenty leagues and three,
When she met wi' a pirate bold,
And a' his company.
"Now whether  ye be the queen hersell,
(For so ye weel may be,)
Or are ye puir Annie of Lochroyan,
Gone seekin' Lord Gregory?" -

"O I am neither the queen," she said,
"Nor sic I seem to be;
But I am puir Annie of Lochroyan,
Gone seekin' Lord Gregory." -
"O see na ye yon bonny tower,
A' cover'd o'er wi' tin?
Sail it round and round about,
Lord Gregory is within."

And when she saw the stately tower
Shining sae clear and bright,
Which stood aboon the jawing wave
Built on a rock of height;
"Row the boat, my mariners,
And bring me safe tae land!
For yonder I see my true love’s tower
Close by the salt-sea strand."

She sail'd it round, and round about,
And loud, loud cried she -
"Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,
And set my true love free!"
She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gane:
And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd,
But answer got she nane.

“My shoe is frozen unto my foot,
My glove unto my hand,
The wet drops fra my yellow hair,
Na langer dare I stand.”
"O open the door, Lord Gregory!
O open and let me in!
For the wind blaws through my yellow hair,
And the rain draps o'er my chin."

O then up spake his ill mither,
An ill death may she die!
‘Ye’re no the lass of Lochroyan,
  She ’s far out-owre the sea.”
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!
Ye're no come here for good!
Ye're but some witch or wil warlock,
Or mermaid o' the flood."

"I am neither witch, nor wil warlock,
Nor mermaid o' the sea;
But I am Annie of Lochroyan;
O open the door to me!"
"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan,
(As I trow thou canna be,)
Now tell me some o' the love tokens
That passed between thee and me."

"O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,
As we sat at the wine,
We changed the rings frae our fingers,
And I can show thee thine?
"O yours was gude, and gude enough,
But aye the best was mine;
For yours was o' the gude red gowd,
But mine o' the diamond fine.

"Now, open the door, Lord Gregory!
Open the door, I pray!
For thy young son is in my arms,
And will be dead ere day."
When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,
And the sun began to peep,
Then up and raise him Lord Gregory,
And sair, sair did he weep.

Love Gregory rose him frae his sleep,
And to his mother did say:
"O I hae dreamed a dream, mither,
That maks my heart right wae.
"I dreamed that Annie of Lochroyan,
The flower of a' her kin,
Was standing mournin' at my door,
But nane wad let her in."

O I hae dream’d a dream, mither,
I pray it may bring good!
That bonnie Annie of Lochroyan
At my bower window stood.
"O I hae dream'd a dream, mither,
The thought o't gars me greet !
That bonnie Annie o' Lochroyan
Lay cauld dead at my feet." -

"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan
That ye make a' this din,
She stood a' last night at your door,
But I wadna let her in." -
"O wae betide ye, ill woman!
An ill death may ye die!
That wadna open the door to her,
Nor yet wad waken me."

"Hey, Annie, how, Annie!
O Annie, winna ye bide!"
But aye the mair he cried Annie,
The braider grew the tide.
" hey, Annie, how, Annie!
Dear Annie, speak to me!"
But aye the louder he cried Annie,
The louder roar'd the sea.

O he's gane down to yon sea shore
As fast as he could fare;
He saw fair Annie in the boat,
But the wind it toss'd her sair.
The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dash'd the boat on shore;
Fair Annie floated through the fame,
But the baby rose no more.

O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair;
But clay-cold were her rosy lips -
Nae breath o' life was there.
And first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,
And syne he kiss'd her chin,
And syne he kiss'd her rosy lips -
There was nae breath within.

"O wae betide ye cruel mother!
An ill death may ye die!
Ye turn'd my true love frae my door,
Wha died for love o' me."
'O wae betide ye ill mither,
An ill death may ye die!
Ye’ve no been the death o ane the day,
Ye’ve been the death o three.'

Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
Her bonny young son was gone
And he 's ta'en out a little dart,
Hung low down by his gore,
He thrust it through and through his heart,
And words spak never more.