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Hazel
Song History
Braes O' Gleniffer
A simple brief
thought on Scottish
Independance.

Were the outdated
union not of some very
high value to England and
the English, why would
they fight so to try to
keep it?

There are only so many
slices to a pie, for one to
have more, another must
have less.

Lastly - to those Scottish
"Loyalists" - to whom are
you loyal?
Scots royalty died in the
1700's so it can be no
Scots crown - And
certainly not it appears to
those who came before,
that bled for Scotland
and her freedom !  
In the words
of Burns, as he
wrote from the heart.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie.

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power,
Chains and slaverie.

Wha would be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a Slave?
Let him turn and flie:

Wha for Scotland's king and law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',
Let him follow me.

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your Sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud Usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us Do - or Die!!!

Choose your destiny.
According to J. W. Tannehill, an ancestor
of Robert Tannahill's brother John, "Whilst
delighting all classes of his countrymen with his
native songs, the poet fell into a state of morbid
despondency, aggravated by his bodily weakness and a
tendency to consumption. He had prepared a new edition
of his poems for the press and sent the manuscript to Mr.
Constable, the publisher, but it was returned by that
gentleman in consequence of his having more new works
on hand than he could undertake that season. This
disappointment preyed on the spirits of the sensitive poet
and his melancholy became deep and habitual. On the
17th of May 1810, the unhappy poet retired to rest; but
suspicion having been excited, in about an hour
afterward, it was discovered that he had stolen out
unperceived. Search was made in every direction and by
the dawn of the morning, the coat of the poet was
discovered lying at the side of a neighboring stream,
pointing out to surely where his body was to be found."
Robert Tannahill was 36 when he died.