| 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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| Scots' Music |
| A State Of Yearning |
| 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 Were the outdated union not of some very high value to England and the English, why would they fight so to try to keep it?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. |
| Tab/Sheet Music As Available |
| Tha fadachd orm fhin Mo ghaol a nochd air bhar a chuain S’fluich an oidhche’s fuar Tha ceo air a bheinn. ‘s fhada leam gu tinn fear a ghunna chaoil nach duilt sealgair nam fiar stu cho fada bhuam. ach nach saoil sibh fhein nach truagh dhomh sa nochd a bhith am bothan bhig san fhrith stu cho fada bhuam. Beannachd dha mo dhuinn A dha chun a ghille bhan S’aine bhuamsa tron ??? mo choise trom. English Translation I'm in a state of yearning I am in a state of yearning, My lover tonight is on the bosom of the ocean, Cold and wet is this night Thick is the mist on the hill. I think it an eternity until The youth with the slim rifle that never misses will come, The hunter of the stags, And you are so far away from me. But do not you yourselves think That it is a pity for me to be tonight In a little bothy in the deer forest And you so far away from me? A blessing to my people Two blessings to the fair-haired lad, Distant from me is music, Painful and heavy is my step |