Author: David Gilfillan

The boys stood on the platform in 1917
Waiting for a train to Salisbury Plain
They were only in their teens.
A lad to his mother said dinnae fret
We’ll be home by Christmas day
And the piper played Scotland the Brave
As they waved the boys away

Chorus

Calling doon the line
Calling doon the line
And they rallied roond to the pipers tune
(That was) Calling doon the line

The Sgt Major pushed them hard
They were trained in only days
For to bear the brunt of the Western front
They would soon be on their way
So off they marched, rifles shoulder high
And all at once they sang
For we’re no awa, tae bide awa
Tae the pipers in the band

The thunder echoed through the trench
As the shells abin them rained
And the generals spent a thousand men
For every inch they gained
And the brave young men faced their battle dawn
So proud to do their jobs
And the piper stood in the line of fire
And played them ower the top

When no man’s land fell silent
And they counted all the dead
The victory claimed would disguise the shame
And nothing more was said
And the fallen brave on a foreign field
They gave their very best
And the piper played a sad lament
As they laid the boys to rest

Oh I niver had but twa richt lads
Aye twa richt lads, twa richt bonnie lads
I niver had but twa richt lads
That dearly courted me

Chorus

Gin I were whaur the gaudie rins
Whaur the gaudie rins, whaur the gaudie rins
Gin I were whaur the gaudie rins
At the back o’ Bennachie

And ane was killed at the laurin’ fair
The laurin’ fair, at the laurin’ fair
Oh ane was killed at the laurin’ fair
The ither was droont in the Dee

And I gave to him the haunin’ fine
The haunin’ fine, the haunin’ fine
Gave to him the haunin’ fine
His mornin’ dressed tae be

Well, he gave to me the linen fine
The linen fine, the linen fine
Gave to me the linen fine
Me windin’ sheet tae be

Well, oh gin I were whaur the gaudie rins
Wi’ the bonny broom an’ the yellow whims
Gin I were whaur the gaudie rins
At the back o’ Bennachie

Chorus

Aye no no me love aye no no

The bonnie wee lassie’s answer 

Was Aye no no

Farewell to Glasgow city and farewell to Lanarkshire

Farewell my dearest parents , I’ll never see you mair

For I am bound to go my love , where no one shall me know

And the bonnie wee lassie’s answer was aye no no

.

• It’s for the want of pocket money it’s for the want of cash
• makes many a bonnie laddie leave his bonnie lass
• For I am bound to go my love, where no one shall me know
• and the bonnie wee lassie’s answer was aye no no.

The Queen is wanting men they says, and I for one must go

it’s for my very life my dear I dare not answer no

For I am bound to go my love , where no one shall me know

And the bonnie wee lassie’s answer was aye no no

O’ stay at hame my bonnie lass, and dinni gang wi me

For little little dae ye ken the dangers o’ the sea

For I am bound to go my love , where no one shall me know

And the bonnie wee lassie’s answer was aye no no

The fervent love I bear for you is constant true and kind

Your always present tae my view, and never frae my mind

For I am bound to go my love , where no one shall me know

And the bonnie wee lassie’s answer was aye no no

Fareweel tae Cathkin’s sunny braes where oft times we have been

Fareweel unto the banks o’ Clyde, and bonnie Glasgow Green

For I am bound to go my love , where no one shall me know

And the bonnie wee lassie’s answer was aye no no

Cope sent a challenge from Dunbar
Charlie, meet me an ye dare
And I’ll teach you the art of war
If you meet me in the morning.
When Charlie looked this letter upon
He drew his sword his scabbard from
Said, “Follow me, my merry men
We’ll meet Johnnie Cope in the morning

Chorus
Hey, Johnnie Cope, are you waking yet,
Are your drums a-beating yet
If you were waking, I would wait
To gang to the coals in the morning.         

Come now Johnnie, be as good as your word
Come try your faith with fire and sword
And don’t flee away like a frightened bird
That’s chased from its nest in the morning
When Johnnie Cope he heard of this                                              
He thought it would not be amiss
To hae a horse in readiness
Tae gang awa in the morning

Come now Johnnie, now get scamperin’
The Highland bagpipes make a din
It’s best to sleep in your Hale skin
It’ll be a bloody morning.
When Johnnie Cope to Berwick came
They asked of him, where are your men
The deil confound me I dinna  ken,
For I left them all in the morning.    

There aren’t many men as lucky as me to have one as long as mine

The thing is as old as I am but still it’s doing fine 

Many’s a time I was afraid It was going on the blink

But after careful scrutiny it proved to be in the pink

.

I always treat it carefully never leave it hanging about

And everytime I use it I remember to shake it out

And sometimes when I use it and I hold it in the air

I instructed me wife to handle it with tender love and care

           

Chorus 

Oo-o-oh ain’t it a beauty I have used it proudly all me life                            

Oo-o-oh ain’t it a beauty and if you don’t believe me ask me wife

.

Danny O’Toole came over one day, he couldn’t believe what he heard

Mine was bigger than his was he didn’t believe a word

I bet him a pound I took him outside I laid it on the street 

He couldn’t believe his eyes it was nearly a hundred feet

.

Last summer when I was out of work to idle away the hours

I used it in the neighbourhood to water the neighbours flowers

A met a young lass who needed it bad, she use it for a week

And though abused for days on end it never sprang a leak

.

I use it in the summer time I use it in the fall

It’s just around about the springtime I use it most of all

I use it in December on a cold and wintry day

I wrote me name in a snow bank a half a block away

.

I must admit it hasn’t been used in three or four months or more

But it’s hanging there and it’s ready as it ever was before

And if the good lord’s willing I’ll be using it for years

It’s the best length of garden hose ever sold by Sears 

.

Oo-o-oh ain’t it a beautyall the fellas envy my technique                            

Oo-o-oh ain’t it a beautyThey hate me every time they take a peek

Bonnie lass o’ Gala Water
Braw braw lass o’ Gala Water
I would range the mountains sae deep
Wi’ you bonnie lass o’ Gala Water

Sae fair her hair, sae brent her brow
Sae bonnie blue her een and cheerie
Oh I would go the length o’ the Isle
Tae get back home wi’ my dearie

O’er yonder moor, o’er yonder mountain
O’er yon bonnie hills taegither
O I would range the mountains o’ time
My own bonnie lass tae forgather

Lords and lairds came here tae woo
And gentlemen wi’ sword and dagger
But the black eyed lass o’ Galashiels
Would hae nane but the gree o’ Gala Water

Man your boats, leave the Whale

What care we for calm or gale?

Aye, tak’ a drink as lang’s ye can:

Brandy’s guid amang het ale;
  

Chorus

Heave ya ho, and away we go

Heave ya ho, and away-oh!

Heave ya ho, and away we go
Heave ya ho, and away-oh!

Wave tae yer lass: they’re a’ the same
Mag an’ Meg and Jeannie and Jane.
Oh how they laugh when we hae fish,
But oh how they girn when we hae nane;


Lady Twynfords lang tails
Comin’ doon the brae-oh
She maun get a’ the cream o’ the milk
An’ we maun get the whey-oh;


What care we for wind or storm?
What care we for gale-oh?
Gin we maun haul a’ the creel ower the side
We’ll drink the milk o’ the Whale-oh;

Now all you jolly collier lads, listen unto me

You know how we are sore oppressed by masters’ tyranny

For improvement of the mines, no leisure time is found

Our children are neglected to be working underground

Chorus

Frae Newtongrange and Arniston, frae Polton and Gorebrig,

Frae Birkenside tae Lasswade, Cockpen and Bonnyrigg,

Frae Rosewell tae Newbattle the Lothian men a’ say

We’re no the likes of ither men that works an eight hour day

Our masters are tyrannical and that they must confess,

They overtax their workmen and do them sore oppress;

No other occupation so dangerous can be found

We cannot call our lives our own while working underground.

The sailor he does plough the main and perils does go through

But he sees the danger coming, which a collier cannot do;

With fallen roofs and firedamp the records can be found

How hundreds yearly lost their lives by working underground.

Now all you jolly collier lads, listen unto me

You know how we are sore oppressed by masters’ tyranny

For improvement of the mines, no leisure time is found

Our children are neglected to be working underground.

Come again, come again ye Burghead men
And sail wi’ the mornin’ tide
Come again, come again through the wind and the rain
To the place where you’ll always bide

Chorus:

And you know when you stand on the Burghead sand

Thou the years be ten times ten
You’ll aye be a slave to the ocean wave
Till your back on the sea once again

When the fishing’s done, the harvest won
Make good your boats guide
Tae the harbour gate, where the woman wait
Till you’re safely by their side

Born in the lee of the great North Sea
Where the weepin’ willows lapped
Married at birth to the Moray Firth
And the deck o’ a fishin’ craft

Come again, come again ye Burghead men
Tae the Broch where you’ll aye belong
To the Dewar’s Well the Claive’s smell
And the Oyster catchers song

chorus:
Some hae meat and cannae eat
Some would eat that want it
But we hae meat and we can eat
So let the Lord be thankit

From my armchair window on this world
Before my eyes appearing
Food for breakfast dinner, tea
And in between meals feeding

From my armchair window on this world
I see butter mountains rising
Fish thrown back into the sea
And leaders compromising

And then I see one bowl of rice
And a child’s eyes staring at me
With feeble bones life never owned
Reaching out to touch me

Just down the road a million miles
Our children they are crying
Too weak to eat they’ve got no meat
They spend their living dying

The ill divisions of this world
Exist because we let them
The choice is ours ‘tween need and greed
To help or just forget them