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| Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads |
| Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer. |
| Hazel Whyte |

















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| Bogies Bonnie Bell |


































| 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 Were the outdated union not of some very high value to England and the English, why would they fight so to try to keep it?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. |




| As I gae'd in by Huntly toon one morning for tae fee I fell in wi' Bogie o' Cairnie, and wae him did agree Tae ca' his twa best horses, or cart, or plough Or do anything aboot fairmwork I very well could do Now Bogie had a daughter, and her name was Isabelle The lily of the valley, she was the primrose o' the dell And when she went out walking she chose me for her guide Doon by the burn o' Cairnie, to watch sma' fishes glide And when three months were past and gone, the lassie lost her bloom The red fell from her rosy cheeks and her eyes began to swoon And when nine months were past and gone, she brought forth to me a son And I was courtly sent for to see what could be done I said I would marry her, Bogie said, that wouldnae do He said, You're no match for my bonnie belle, and she's nae match for you And noo she's married tae a tinkerchiel wha bides in Huntly toon He mends pots and pans and paraffin lamps and scours the country roon' And maybe she's gotten a better match, auld Bogie cannae tell Fareweel ye lads o' Huntly toon, and Bogie's bonnie belle |
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