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Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Scots' Music
Scottish Rivers
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Were the outdated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.
The way English rivers flow a lazy winding way
Through marshes gold with buttercups, and meadows
sweet with hay
The level land lies round them, and their banks are broad
and low
and there is depth and stillness, where the English rivers
flow.

But our sturdy Scottish rivers, they come tumbling from
the bens
Like a crowd of happy children, to make music in the
glens.
The mountain mist surrounds them and moorlands
heather flanks
and the bending of the birches is a beauty on their banks.

They breast the barring boulders in their eagerness to be
The one before the other in the bosom of the sea.
They clutch the red-scaured edges and they trample
down the clay
And the thunder of their footsteps is a shout to clear the
way.

The sparkling Scottish rivers, when they win to open
ground
Go tinkling through the lowlands, over pebbles rolled and
round
Go laughing through the lowlands like the gipsy folks
they are
Till they lose their white foam garlands to the waves
across the bar.
Tab/Sheet Music
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