Freedom For Scotland
Scotland's Ma Hame
Scottish Songs
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My Ancestors
                 Flower 'O Scotland.

Oh Flower of Scotland,
When will we see your likes again?
That fought and died for
Your wee bit hill and glen
And stood against him,
Proud Edward's army,
And sent him homeward,
To think again.

The hills are bare now,
And autumn leaves lie thick and still
O'er land that is lost now,
Which those so dearly held,
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's army,
And sent him homeward,
To think again

Those days are past now
And in the past they must remain.
But we can still rise now
And be the nation again.
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's army,
And sent him homeward,
To think again.
Motherwell  History
Motherwell Football
Old and New Photographs of Motherwell
Stories Of Motherwell
The Auld Manse Cemetery
South Dalziel Church Motherwell
Dalziel Estate
Stastical Account
Dalziel Parish
Statistical Account Parish of Dalziel
The Auld Manse Graveyard
The Covenanters Graveyard
The Covenanters Oak
Jane Brown
Ode tae Rabbie
Ma Frien'The Robin
A Wean Cau'd Anne
                The Star o' Rabbie Burns.

There is a star whose beaming ray
Is shed on ev'ry clime.
It shines by night, it shines by day
And ne'er grows dim wi' time.
It rose upon the banks of Ayr,
It shone on Doon's clear stream -
A hundred years are gane and mair,
Yet brighter grows its beam.

Let kings and courtiers rise and fa',
This world has mony turns
But brightly beams aboon them a'
The star o' Rabbie Burns.

Though he was but a ploughman lad
And wore the hodden grey,
Auld Scotland's sweetest bard was bred
Aneath a roof o'strae.
To sweep the strings o'Scotia's lyre,
It needs nae classic lore;
It's mither wit an native fire
That warms the bosom's core.
On fame's emblazon'd page enshrin'd
His name is foremost now,
And many a costly wreath's been twin'd
To grace his honest brow.
And Scotland's heart expands wi' joy
Whene'er the day returns
That gave the world its peasant boy
Immortal Rabbie Burns.

                        The Rowan Tree.

Oh! Rowan Tree Oh! Rowan Tree!
Thou'lt aye be dear to me,
Entwined thou art wi mony ties,
O' hame and infancy.
Thy leaves were aye the first o' spring,
Thy flow'rs the simmer's pride;
There was nae sic a bonny tree
In a' the countrieside
Oh! Rowan tree!
How fair wert thou in simmer time,

Wi' a' thy clusters white
How rich and gay thy autumn dress,
Wi' berries red and bright.
On thy fair stem were many names,
Which now nae mair I see,
But they're engraven on my heart.
Forgot they ne'er can be!
Oh! Rowan tree!
We sat aneath thy spreading shade,

The bairnies round thee ran,
They pu'd thy bonny berries red,
And necklaces they strang.
My Mother! Oh, I see her still,
She smil'd oor sports to see,
Wi' little Jeanie on her lap,
And Jamie at her knee!
Oh! Rowan tree!
Oh! there arose my Father's pray'r,

In holy evening's calm,
How sweet was then my Mither's voice,
In the Martyr's psalm;
Now a' are gane! we meet nae mair
Aneath the Rowan Tree;
But hallowed thoughts around thee twine
O' hame and infancy.
Oh! Rowan tree!
The Duchess of Hamilton Park
Me----- Cauld
Jimmy Gallacher
Other Poets
David Wingate Collier Poet
Scottish Songs
Scottish Songs 2
Scottish Songs 3
Irish Songs
Irish Songs 2
Old Scottish Words   In Use Today
Parliamo Glasgow
Old Map of Scotland
Bits an' Bobs
              Bonnie Doon

Ye Banks And Braes
O' Bonnie Doon
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chaunt, ye little birds
And I sae weary full o' care?
Ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird
That wantons thro' the flow'ry thorn
Ye mind o' departed joys
Departed never to return.
Oft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine
And ilka bird sang o' its love
And fondly sae did I o' mine
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Full sweet upon its thorny tree
And my fause lover stole my rose
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

By Robert Burns.
I Belong to Glasgow.

I've been wi' a couple o' cronies,
One or two pals o' my ain;
We went in a hotel, and we did very well,
And then we came out once again;
Then we went into anither,
And that is the reason I'm fu';
We had six deoch-an-doruses, then sang a chorus,
Just listen, I'll sing it to you:

I belong to Glasgow,
Dear old Glasgow town;
But what's the matter wi' Glasgow,
For it's goin' roun' and roun'!
I'm only a common old working chap,
As anyone here can see,
But when I get a couple o' drinks on a Saturday,
Glasgow belongs to me!

There's nothing in keeping your money,
And saving a shilling or two;
If you've nothing to spend, then you've nothing to lend,
Why that's all the better for you!
There no harm in taking a drappie,
It ends all your trouble and strife;
It gives ye the feeling that when you get home,
You don't give a hang for the wife!

           Wha Wadna Fecht For Charlie

Wha wadna fecht for Charlie?
Wha wadna draw the sword?
Wha wadna up and rally
At the royal Prince's word?
Think on Scotia's ancient heroes,
Think on foreign foes repell'd,
Think on glorious Bruce and Wallace,
Who the proud usurpers quelled;
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie?
Wha wadna draw the sword?
Wha wadna up and rally
At the royal Prince's word?
Rouse, rouse ye kilted warriors,
Rouse heroes of the North!
Rouse, join our chieftain's banners,
'Tis your Price that leads you forth!
Shall we basely crouch to tyrants?
Shall we own a foreign sway?
Shall a royal Stuart be banish'd,
While a stranger rules the day?
Wha wadna fecht . . . .
See, Northern clans advancing,
Glengarry and brave Lochiel:
See brandished broadswords glancing!
Highland hearts are true as steel.
Now our Prince has raised his banner,
Now triumphant is his cause,
Now the Scottish lion rallies,
Let us strike for Prince and laws!
Wha wadna fecht . . . .
                Corn Rigs

It was upon a Lammas night
When the corn rigs were bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light
I held awa' to Annie.

The time flew by wi' tentless heed
'Til 'tween the late and early,
Wi' small persuasion she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.

Corn Rigs and barley rigs
Corn rigs are bonny
I'll ne'eer forget that Lammas night
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly.
I set her down wi' right good will
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I kept her heart, was a' my sin.
I loved her most sincerely.
I kissed her o'er and o'er again
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I locked her in my fond embrace.
Her heart was beatin' rarely.
My blessing on that happy place
Amang the rigs o' barley.

But by the moon and stars so bright
That shone that hour so clearly,
She aye shall bless that happy night
Amang the rigs of barley.

I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear
I hae been merry drinking.
I hae been joyful gath'rin' gear
I hae been happy thinking.

But a' the pleasures e'er I saw
Tho' three times doubled fairly,
That happy night was worth them a'
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

Bt Robert Burns.
           Will Ye No Come Back Again

Bonnie Charlie's now awa',
Safely owre the friendly main;
Mony a heart will break i taw,
Should he no' come back again.
Will ye no come back again?
Will ye no come back again?
Better lo'ed ye canna be,
Will ye no come back again?

2. Mony a traitor 'mange the isles
Brak the band o' nature's laws;
Mony a traitor wi' his wiles,
Sought to wear his life awa'.
3. Many a gallant sodger gaught,
Mony a gallant chief did fa,
Death itself were dearly bought,
A' for Scotland's king and law.
4. Whene'er I hear the blackbird sing,
Unto the evening sinking down,
Or merl that makes the wood to ring,
To me they hae nae other sound.
5. Sweet the lav'rock's note and lang,
Lilting wildly up the glen;
And aye the o'erworld o' he sang,
Will he no' come back again?
Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

  We twa hae run about the braes
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
Sin' auld lang syne.

We two hae paidled i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.

And here's a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak' a right gude-willy waught,
For auld lang syne.

By Robert Burns
               A Guid New Year

A guid new year to ane an' a'
An' mony may ye see,
An' during a' the years to come,
O happy may ye be.
An' may ye ne'er hae cause to mourn,
To sigh or shed a tear;
To ane an'a baith great an' sma'
A hearty guid New year.
A guid new year to ane an' a'
An' mony may ye see,
An' during a' the years to come,
O happy may ye be.
2. O time flies past, he winna wait,
My friend for you or me,
He works his wonders day by day,
And onward still doth flee.
O wha can tell when ilka ane,
I see sae happy here,
Will meet again and merry be
Anither guid New year.
3. We twa ha'e baith been happy lang.
We ran about the braes.
In yon wee cot beneath the tree,
We spent our early days.
We ran about the burnie's side,
The spot will aye be dear,
An'those that used to meet us there,
We'll think on mony a year.
4. Noo let us hope our years may be
As guid as they ha'e been,
And trust we ne'er again may see,
The sorrows we ha'e seen.
And let us wish that ane an'a'
Our friends baith far an' near,
May aye enjoy in times to come -
A hearty guid New year!

              Leese Lindsay
will ye gang tae the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay?
Will ye gang tae the Hielands wi' me?
Will ye gang tae the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay,
My bride and my darling tae be?"

"To gang to the Hielands wi' you, sir.
I dinna ken how that may be;
For I ken nae the land that ye live in,
Nor ken I the lad I'm gaun wi'."

"O, Leezie, lass, ye maun ken little,
If sae be ye dinna ken me;
For my name is Lord Ronald MacDonald,
A chieftain o' high degree."

She has kilted her coats o' green satin.
She has kilted them up tae her knee,
And she's aff wi' Lord Ronald MacDonald,
His bride and his darling tae be.
Rattlin' Roarin' Willie
O rattlin' roarin ' Willie
Oh he held to the fair
An' for to sell his fiddle
An' buy some other ware
But partin' wi' his fiddle
The saut tear blint his eye
And rattlin' roarin' Willie
Ye're welcome hame to me!
O Willie, come sell your fiddle
O sell your fiddle sae fine
O Willie, come sell your fiddle
And buy a pint o' wine!
If I should sell my fiddle
The warl' would think I was mad
For mony a rantin' day
My fiddle and I ha'e had.

As I cam' by Chrochallan
I cannily keekit ben
Rattlin' roarin' Willie
Was sitting at yon board en'
Sitting at yone board en'
And amang guid companie
Rattlin' roarin' Willie
Ye're welcome hame to me!
Jim McLean wrote this song in 1963 and  is published by Duart Music this song is copyright. I have been given kind permission to keep it on my site
              The Massacre of Glencoe
They came in a blizzard, we offered them heat
A roof for their heads, dry shoes for their feet
We wined them and dined them, they ate of our meat
And they slept in the house of MacDonald.
O, cruel was the snow that sweeps Glencoe
And covers the grave o' Donald
O, cruel was the foe that raped Glencoe
And murdered the house of MacDonald

2. They came from Fort William with murder in mind
The Campbell had orders King William had signed
"Put all to the sword" these words underlined
"And leave none alive called MacDonald"

3. They came in the night when the men were asleep
This band of Argyles, through snow soft and deep
Like murdering foxes amongst helpless sheep
They slaughtered the house of MacDonald

4. Some died in their beds at the hand of the foe
Some fled in the night and were lost in the snow
Some lived to accuse him who struck the first blow
But gone was the house of MacDonald
   My Love she is but a Lassie

My Love She's But A Lassie Yet
Oh my love she's but a lassie yet
Oh my love she's but a lassie yet
We'll let her stand a year or twa
She'll no be half sae saucy yet.
I rue the day I sought her, O
I rue the day I sought her, O
Wha gets her needs na say she's woo'd
But he may say he's bought her, O!

Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet
Gae seek for pleasure where you will
But here I never missed it yet.

We're a' dry wi' drinkin' o't
We're a' dry wi' drinkin' o't
The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife
He could na preach for thinking o't.

Repeat First Verse and Chorus
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