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Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Irish' Music
Bold Robert
Emmet
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.

The struggle is over, the boys are defeated,
Old Ireland's surrounded with sadness and
gloom,
We were defeated and shamefuIIy treated,
And I, Robert Emmet, awaiting my doom.

Hung, drawn and quartered, sure that was my
sentence,
But soon I will show them no coward am I.
My crime is the love of the land I was born in,
A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.

(Chorus)
Bold Robert Emmet, the darling of Ireland,
Bold Robert Emmet will die with a smile,
Farewell companions both loyal and daring,
I'll lay down my life for the Emerald Isle.

The barque lay at anchor awaiting to bring me
Over the billows to the land of the free;
But I must see my sweetheart for I know she
will cheer me,
And with her I will sail far over the sea.


But I was arrested and cast into prison,
Tried as a traitor, a rebel, a spy;
But no man can call me a knave or a coward,
A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.

(Chorus repeat)

Hark! I the bell's tolling, I well know its
meaning,
My poor heart tells me it is my death knell;
In come the clergy, the warder is leading,
I have no friends here to bid me farewell.
Goodbye, old Ireland, my parents and
sweetheart,
Companions in arms to forget you must try;
I am proud of the honour, it was only my duty-
A hero I lived and a hero I'll die.

(Chorus repeat)