Eriskay Love Lilt

Chorus
Bheir me o, horo van o
Bheir me o, horo van ee
Bheir me o, o horo ho
Sad am I, without thee.

Thou'rt the music of my heart
Harp of joy, o cruit mo chruidh
Moon of guidance by night
Strength and light thou'rt to me.

In the morning, when I go
To the white and shining sea
In the calling of the seals
Thy soft calling to me.

When I'm lonely, dear white heart
Black the night and wild the sea
By love's light, my foot finds
The old pathway to me.

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Dark Lochnagar

Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
In you let the minions of luxury rove,
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love.
Yet Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,
Round their white summits the elements war,
Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountain
I sigh for the valley of dark Lochnagar.

Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wander'd,
My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was my plaid.
On chieftains long perish'd my memory ponder'd
As daily I strode thro' the pine cover'd glade.
I sought not my home till the day's dying glory
Gave place to the rays of the bright Polar star,
For fancy was cheer'd by traditional story,
Disclos'd by the natives of dark Lochnagar!

Years have roll'd on, Lochnagar, since I left you!
Years must elapse ere I tread you again.
Though nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you,
Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
England, thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roamed over mountains afar
Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
The steep frowning glories of dark Lochnagar.

Chorus:
Brave Caledonia dear are thy mountains
I sigh for the valley o' dark Lochnagar.

Ill starred now the brave did no vision foreboding
Tell you that fate had forsaken our cause
Yet were you destined to die at Culloden
Though victory crowned not your fall with applause.
Yet were you happy in death's earthy slumbers
Tae sleep wi' your clan in the caves o' Braemar
The pibroch resounds tae the pipers loud numbers
Your deeds to the echoes o' dark Lochnagar.
Your deeds to the echoes o' dark Lochnagar.

Chorus

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Flow Gently Sweet Afton

Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills,
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow:
There oft, as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides:
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweets flowerets, she stems thy clear wave.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays:
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

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Coulters Candy

Chorus:
Ally bally, ally bally bee,
Sittin' on yer mammy's knee,
Greetin' for anither bawbee,
Tae buy some Coulter's Candy.

Here's auld Coulter comin' roon'
Wi' a basket on his croon
So here's a penny, noo ye rin doon
And buy some Coulter's candy.

Chorus

Ally bally, ally bally bee,
When ye grow up ye'11 gang tae sea
Makin' pennies for your daddie and me
Tae buy some Coulter's candy.

Chorus

Oor wee Annie's greetin' tae,
So whit can puir auld mammy dae?
But gie them a penny atween them twae
Tae buy some Coulter's Candy.

Chorus

Puir wee Jeannie she's lookin' affa' thin
A rickle o' banes covered ower wi' skin
Noo she's gettin' a wee double chin
Wi' sookin' Coulter's candy.

Chorus

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Come By The Hills

Come by the hills to a land where fancy is free
And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs reach the sea
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is gold in the sun
And the cares of tomorrow must wait 'til this day is done.

Come by the hills to the land where life is a song
And sing while the birds fill the air with their joy all day long
Where the trees sway in time and even the wind sings in tune
And the cares of tomorrow can wait 'til this day is done.

Come by the hills to a land where legend remains
Where stories of old stir the heart and may yet come again
Where our past has been lost and the future has still to be won
And the cares of tomorrow must wait 'til this day is done.

Come by the hills to a land where fancy is free
And stand where the peaks meet the sky and the lochs reach the sea
Where the rivers run clear and the bracken is gold in the sun
And the cares of tomorrow must wait 'til this day is done.

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Charlie Is My Darling

Chorus:
Oh! Charlie is my darling,
My darling, my darling,
Oh! Charlie is my darling,
The young Chevalier.

Twas on a Monday morning,
Right early in the year,
When Charlie came to our town,
The young Chevalier.

Chorus

As he cam' marching up the street,
The pipes played loud and clear,
And a' the folks cam' rinnin' out,
To meet the Chevalier.

Chorus

Wi' Highland bonnets on their heads,
And claymores bright and clear,
They cam' to fight for Scotland's right,
And the young Chevalier.

Chorus

They've left their bonnie Hieland hills,
Their wives and bairnies dear,
To draw the sword for Scotland's lord,
The gay Chevalier.

Chorus

Oh, there were mony beating hearts,
And mony hope and fear;
And mony were the pray'rs put up
For the young Chevalier.

Chorus

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Cam Ye O'er Frae France

Cam' ye o'er frae France? Cam' ye doon by Lunnon?
Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonnie woman?
Were ye at the place ca'd the Kittle Hoosie?
Saw ye Geordie's grace, riding on a goosie?

Geordie he's a man, there is little doubt o't,
He's done a' he can, wha' can do without it?
Down there came a blade, linkin like my lordie;
He wad drive a trade, at the loom o' Geordie.

Though the claith were bad, blithely may we niffer:
Gin we get a wab, it makes little differ.
We hae tint our plaid, bonnet, belt and swordie,
Ha's and mailins braid - but we hae a Geordie!

Jocky's gane to France, and Montgomery's lady:
There they'll learn to dance: Madam are you ready?
They'll be back belyve, belted, brisk and lordly:
Brawly may they thrive, to dance a jig wi' Geordie!

Hey for Sandy Don!, Hey for Cockalorum!
Hey for Bobbing John, and his Highland quorum!
Mony a sword and lance, swings at Highland hurdie:
How they'll skelp and dance, o'er the bum o

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