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
Scots' Music
Be Kind Tae Auld
Grannie
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Were the outdated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
Be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.
When ye were bairnies tott, totting about,
She watch'd ye when in, and she watched ye when
out;
And aye when ye chanc'd in your daffin and fun,
To dunt your wee head on the cauld stanney grun',

She lifted ye up and she kiss'd ye fu' fain,
Till a' your bit cares were forgotten again.
Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.
When first in your breasts rose that feeling divine,
That's wak'd by the tales and the sangs o' lang syne,

Wi' auld-warld cracks she would pleasure inspire,
In the lang winter nights as she sat by the fire;
Or melt your young hearts wi' some sweet Scottish
lay,
Like "Flow'rs o' the Forest" or "Auld Robbie Gray";
Though eerie the win' blew around our bit cot,
Grim winter and a' its wild blasts were forgot;
Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,

As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.
And mind though the blythe day o' youth is noo yours,
Time will wither its joys, as wild winter the flow'rs;
And your step that's noo licht as the bound o' the roe,
Wi' cheerless auld age may be feeble and slow;
And the frien's o' your youth to the grave may be
gane,

And ye on its brink may be tott'ring alane;
Oh, think how consoling some frien' would be then,
When the gloaming o' life comes like mist o'er the
glen;
Then be kind to auld grannie, for noo she is frail,
As a time shatter'd tree bending low in the gale.