| 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 |
| Boys Of Kilkenny |
| 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. |
Oh the Boys of Kilkenny are brave roaring blades And if ever they meet with the nice little maids They'll kiss them and coax them and spend their money free And of all towns in Ireland Kilkenny for me And of all towns in Ireland Kilkenny for me Fal de ral de ral de ral de ral lal ra la la lo In the Town of Kilkenny there runs a clear stream In the Town of Kilkenny there lives a pretty dame Her lips are like roses, and her mouth much the same Like a dish of fresh strawberries smother'd in cream Fal de ral de ral de ral de ral lal ra la la lo Her Eyes are as black as Kilkennys large coal Which thro' my poor bosom have burnt a big hole Her mind like its river is mild clear and pure But her heart is more hard nor its marble I'm sure Fal de ral de ral de ral de ral lal ra la la lo Kilkenny's a pretty town and shines where it stands And the more I think on it, the more my heart warms For, if I was in Kilkenny I'd think myself at home For it's there I'd get sweethearts, but here I get none Fal de ral de ral de ral de ral lal ra la la lo |