| One of the largest collections of Scottish Ballads & Scots Folk Songs, lyrics, celtic music and downloads available on the internet. |
| Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads |
| Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer. |
| Hazel Whyte |
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| Irish' Music |
| A Day In Erin |
| It was once said to me, and has been voiced by many - that the only difference between the Scots and the Irish is that the Scots stopped fighting. My response to my Irish friends is that we stopped fighting for good reason. After putting OUR king on THEIR throne, WE thought WE had won ! Sadly the Scots have now spent four centuries wondering what happened ?? Perhaps NOW is the time to peacefully right the wrongs of the past. |
| 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. |
Four gleaming scythes in the sunshine swaying, Through the deep hush of a summer´s day, Before their edges four stout men sweeping In tuneful measure the fragrant hay. Myself the fourth of them, strong and happy, My keen blue steel moving fast and free. Ah! Little then was the broadest meadow And light the heaviest scythe to me! O King of Glory! What a change is o´er me Since the young blood thrilled me long, long ago, And each day found me with the sunshine round me And the tall grass falling to my every blow. O´er the dewy meadows came the cailín´s voices, Ringing glad and merry as they raked the hay. Oh! The hours pass quickly as a beam of sunshine When the years are rosy and the heart is gay. Like fairy minstrels, the bees a-humming Went honey-seeking from flower to flower; Like golden berries in the distance gleaming, I´ve watched and listened to them hour by hour. And the butterflies on the sunbeams riding, With wings surpassing e´en the blush of dawn, Or like fairy jewels, full of light and splendour On the golden crown of the buachalán. The blackbird´s lay in the woods rang clearly, The thrush´s notes echoed far and high, While the lark´s full song, like a bell´s vibration Comes floating down from the midmost sky. From his leafy station the linnet lifted His little voice in the hazel glen, And O God of Grace, was not life a pleasure, In our green and beautiful Eirinn then! |