Category: Lyrics

Chorus.

I will go, I will go when the fighting is over
To the land of Mcleod where I left to be a soldier,

I will go, I will go

When the King’s son came along,
He brought us altogether
Saying “Fine Highland men, you will fight for my father

I will go, I will go.

I’ve a buckle to my belt, a sword in the scabbard,
A red coat to my back and a shilling in my pocket 

I will go I will go 

When they put us all on board the lassies they were singing

but the tears came to their eye’s when the bell started ringing

I will go I will go.

When we landed on that shore and saw the foreign heather
we knew that some would fall and would lie there forever 

I will go l will go.

When we came back to our glen the winter was turning
Our goods lay in the snow and our houses they were burning.

I will go I will go.

Whaur hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whaur hae ye been sae brankie-o?
Whaur hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Come ‘ye by Killiecrankie o’

An’ ye had been whaur I hae been
Ye wadna been sae cantie-o
An’ ye had seen what I hae seen
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie

O’ I fought at land, I fought at sea
At hame I fought my auntie-o
But I met the Devil and Dundee
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-

O’The bauld pit cur fell in a furr
And Clavers gat a crankie-o
Or I had fed an Athol gled
On the braes o’ Killiecrankie-

Oh fie, MacKay, What gart ye lie
I’ the brush ayont the brankie-o?
Ye’d better kiss’d King Willie’s lofe
Than come tae Killiecrankie-o

It’s nae shame, it’s nae shame
It’s nae shame to shank ye-o
There’s sour slaes on Athol braes
And the de’ils at Killiecrankie-o

Late summer day and my love and I went walking
Over hills and fields we walked, laughing and talking

Came across an old farmhouse standing broken and bare
It used to be someone’s home now no one lives there.

There’s a red barn standing held together with nails and dust
And a tired old Massey Harris all wires and rust

Weeds overgrown in a garden sown with care
It used to be someone’s home now no one lives there

And through the crack in the window pane I hear the sound of the falling rain
Another farm being left run down another family moved into town

Had a life that they tried to save but the banks took it all away
Hung a sign on a torn screen door nobody lives here no more

They worked their fingers to the bone nothing left They can call their own
Packed it in under leaden skies with just the wheat waving them goodbye

Had a life that they tried to save but the banks took it all away
Hung a sign on a torn screen door nobody lives here no more

Had a life that they tried to save but the banks took it all away
Hung a sign on a torn screen door nobody lives here no more

My name is Jamie Raeburn, from Glasgow town I came 
My place and habitation I’m forced to leave in shame 
Frae my place and habitation, it’s I must gang awa’ 
Far from the bonnie hills and dales of Caledonia 

It was early on one morning, just by the break of day 
The turnkey he came to us and unto us did say 
Arise you hapless convicts, arise you one and a’ 
This is the day you are to stray from Caledonia 

So we all arose, put on our clothes, our hearts were full of grief 
Our friends who stood around the coach could grant us no relief 
Our parents, wives and sweethearts too, their hears were broke in twa
To see us leave the hills and dales of Caledonia 

So farewell my dearest mother, I’m vexed for what I’ve done 
I hope none shall cast up to you the race that I have run 
I hope that they’ll protect you when I am far awa’ 
Far from the bonnie hills and dales of Caledonia 

And farewell, my honest father, you were the best of men 
And likewise my sweetheart, it’s Catherine is her name 
No more we’ll walk by Clyde’s clear stream or by the Broomielaw 
For I must leave the hills and dales of Caledonia 

Chorus
Gin ye marry me Lassie
At the Kirk called Birnie Bouzle
Till the day ye die lassie
Ye will ne’er repent it

Ye will wear when ye are wed
A girdle and a Hieland plaid
High above a heather bed
Sae coutle and sae canty

Tho your tocher is but small
a hodden-grey will wear for tha’
I’ll save my siller tae mak’ ye braw
And Ye will ne’er repent it

Ye’ll hae bonnie bairn’s and a’ 
Some lassie’s fair and ladies braw
Like their mither yin and a’

Yer faither he’s consented

I’ll hunt the otter and the brock
The hart the hare the hearther-cock
And you alone will spay the rock
And mak’ ye dishes dainty

The back of the winter is broken
And light lingers long by the door
And the seeds of the summer have spoken
In gowans that bloom on the shore

Chorus.

By night and day we’ll sport and we’ll play
And delight as the dawn dances over the bay
Sleep blows the breath of the morning away
And we follow the heron home

In darkness we cradled our sorrow
And stoked all our fires with fear
Now these bones that lie empty and hollow
Are ready for gladness to cheer

So long may you sing of the salmon
And the snow-scented sounds of your home
While the north wind delivers its sermon
Of ice and salt water and stone

By night and day we’ll sport and we’ll play
And delight as the dawn dances over the bay
Sleep blows the breath of the morning away
And we follow the heron home

As I cam’ in by Turra Market, 
Turra Market for to fee, 
I fell in wi’ a mairket fairmer, 
The Barnyards of Delgaty.

Chorus 
Lintin addie toorin addie, 
Lintin addie toorin ee, 
Lintin lowrin, lowrin, lowrin, 
The barnyards of Delgaty.

He promised me the twa best horse 
That ever were in Scotland seen, 
But when I gaed doon tae the Barren Yairds, 
There was naething there but skin and bean.

The auld black horse sat on its rump, 
The auld white mare lay on her wime. 
And for all that I could “Hup” and crack, 
They wouldna rise at yokin’ time.

When I gae to the kirk on Sunday, 
Mony’s the bonnie lass I see, 
Sitting by her faither’s side 
And winkin o’er the pews at me.

I can drink and no be drunk, 
I can fecht and no be slain, 
I can lie wi another man’s lass, 
And aye be welcome to my ain.

Noo my candle is brunt oot, 
My snotter’s fairly on the wane. 
Sae fare ye weel ye Barnyards 
Ye’ll never catch me here again.

Fareweel ye dungeons dark an’ strong
Farewell, farewell to thee;
McPherson’s time will no be long
Below than gallows tree I’ll hing

It wis by a woman’s treacherous hand
‘at I wis condemned to dee
Below a ledge a windoe she stood
Then a blanket she threw ower me

Chorus (after each verse):
So rantinly, sae wantonly and sae dauntinly went he
He played a tune then he danced aroon below the gallows tree.

untie these bans fae around my hands
An’ gae bring to me my sword
For there’s no a man in all Scotland
But’|l brave him at his word.

There’s some cam’ here to see me hang’t
An’ some to buy my fiddle
But before ‘at I do part wi’ her
l’ll break her through the middle.

He took the fiddle into both of his hands

An’he broke it over a stone,
Says he, “There’s no anither han’ll play on thee
When I am dead and gone.”

The reprieve wis comin’ o’er the Brig o’ Banff
For tae let McPherson free
When they put the clock a quarter before
Then hanged him to the tree.

Chorus :

Dat du min Leevsten büst Dat du wull weeßt

Kumm bi de Nacht, kumm bi de Nacht

Segg, wo du heeßt

Kumm bi de Nacht, kumm bi de Nacht

Segg, wo du heeßt

.

Kumm du um Middernacht Kumm du Klock een

Vader slöpt, Moder slöpt Ick slap aleen

Vader slöpt, Moder slöpt Ick slap aleen

.

Klopp an de Kammerdör fat up de Klink

Vader slöpt, Moder meent Dat deit de Wind

Vader slöpt, Moder meent Dat deit de Wind

.

Wenn dann de Morgan graut Kreit dan de hann

Leevster min leevster min Du must nun Gann

Leevster min leevster min Du must nun Gann

There was never much romance in fishing – that’s just trawlermen’s tales at the bar;
It was mostly low pay, and at the end of the day it was dangerous, dirty and hard;
There were times when we made a good living, now we can’t make ends meet like we could;
We’re up to our necks, so we’re clearing the decks – getting out while the going is good.

(Chorus:)
So I’m saying goodbye to the seas, lads, saying goodbye to the sea,
Goodbye to the fishing, goodbye to the nets; the nearer it comes, lads, the harder it gets;
When you’re sailing her out for the grounds, lads, you’ll be sailing her out without me,

There’s a lump in me throat as I’m burning my boats and I’m saying goodbye to the sea.


Well I don’t mind the back-breaking labour, and I don’t mind the weeks out from home;
I don’t expect catches where you can’t close the hatches – for I know that the old days are gone;
I’m sick of this scrimping and saving, and the bankers that make your life hell;
And the ministry fools with their quotas and rules, and the Frenchies just pleasing themselves.


So it’s nine-to-five Monday to Friday – with me clock-card I’m a cog in the wheel,With butties and flask and some trivial task for some spotty lad with a degree;
Well he’ll not last a couple of minutes on the dark rolling deck of a trawler,
For where computers are king he’s the ruler of things, but me I’m just a fish out of water.