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Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Irish' Music
An Irishman,s
Epistle
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.

By my faith but I think ye're all makers of bulls,
With your brains in your breeches, your bums in your
skulls
Get home with your muskets and put up your swords,
And look in your books for the meaning of words.
You see, now, my honeys, how much you're mistaken,
For Concord by discord can never be taken.

How brave ye went out with your muskets all bright,
And thought to be-frighten the folks with the sight;
But when you got there how they powdered your pums,
And all the way home how they peppered your bums.
And is it not, honeys, a comical crack,
To be proud in the face, and be shot in the back?

How come ye to think, now, they did not know how,
To be after their firelocks as smartly as you?
Why, you see, now, my honeys, 'tis nothing at all,
But to pull at the trigger, and pop goes the ball,

And what have you got now with all vour designinng,
But a town without victuals to sit down and dine in,
And to look on the ground like a parcel of noodles,
And sing how the Yankees have beaten the Doodles.
I'm sure if you're wise you'll make peace for a dinner,
For fighting and fasting will soon make ye thinner