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Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Scots' Music
The Rose Of
Tralee
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Were the outdated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 pale moon was rising above the green
mountain,
The sun was declining beneath the blue sea;
When I strayed with my love to the pure
crystal fountain,
That stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the
summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever
dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

The cool shades of evening their mantle were
spreading
And Mary all smiling sat listening to me;
The moon through the valley her pale rays
were shining
When I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the
summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever
dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

On the far fields of India, mid war's bloody
thunder,
Her voice was a solace and comfort to me,
But the cold hand of death has now torn us
asunder
I'm lonely tonight for my Rose of Tralee.
She was lovely and fair as the rose of the
summer,
Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me;
Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever
dawning,
That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.
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