| 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 |
| Sherrifmuir |
| 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 Were the outdated union not of some very high value to England and the English, why would they fight so to try to keep it?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. |
| Will ye go to Sherrifmuir, Bauld John o' Innisture, There to see the noble Mar And his Highland laddies; A' the true men o' the north, Angus, Huntly, and Seaforth. Scouring on to cross the Forth, Wi' their white cockadies? There you'll see the banners flare, There you'll hear the bagpipes' rair, And the trumpets' deadly blare, Wi' the cannon's rattle. There you'll see the bault M'Craws, Cameron's and Clanronald's raws, And a' the clans, wi' loud huzzas, Rushing to the battle. There you'll see the noble Whigs, A' the heroes o' the brigs, Raw hides and wither'd wigs, Riding in array, man. Ri'en hose and raggit hools, Sour milk and girnin gools, Psalm-beuks and cutty-stools, We'll see never mair, man. Will ye go to Sherrifmuir, Bauld John o' Innisture? Sic a day, and sic an hour, Ne'er was in the north, man. Siccan sights will there be seen; And, gin some be nae mista'en, Fragrant gales will come bedeen, Frae the water o' Forth, man. |
| Tab/Sheet Music As Available |