| 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 |


| Row Bullies Row |






































| 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 Were the outdated union not of some very high value to England and the English, why would they fight so to try to keep it?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. |
| From Liverpool to ‘Frisco a-roving I went For to stay in that country it was my intent But girls and strong whiskey, like other damned fools I soon was transported back to Liverpool Chorus: And it’s row, row bullies row Them Liverpool Judies have got us in tow I shipped on “The Alaska” laid out in the bay A-waiting for a fair wind to get under way The sailor’s all drunk and their backs’ is all sore The whiskey’s all done and we can’t get no more Now here comes our first mate in his jacket of blue A-looking for work for us sailors to do it’s “jib-topsail halyards” he loudly does roar and “stay aloft Paddy, ye son of a wh***” Here’s a health to captain where e’er he may be He’ a friend to the sailor on land or on sea But as for that first mate, that son of a brute I hope when he dies, straight to Hell he’ll sky-hoot. |
| Tab/Sheet Music As Available |