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Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Scots' Music
Wee German
Lairdie
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Were the outdated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
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.

Wha the de'il hae we gotten for a king,
But a wee, wee German Lairdie:
When we gaed ower to bring him hame,
He was delvin' in his kailyardie.
He was sheughing kail, and laying leeks,
Without the hose, an' but the breeks,
An' up his beggar duds lie cleeks.
This wee, wee German Lairdie.

An' he's clappit doun in our gudeman's chair,
The wee, wee German lairdie;
An' he's brocht fouth o' his foreign trash,
An' dibbled them in his yairdie.
He's pu'd the rose o' English loons,
An' broken the harp o' Irish clowns,
But our Scotch thistle will jag his thumbs,
This wee, wee German lairdie.

Come up amang our Hieland. Hills,
Thou wee, wee German lairdie,
An' see the Stuart's lang kail thrive,
They hae dibbled in our kail-yairdie.
An' if a stock ye daur to pu',
Or haud the yokin' o' a plough,
We'll break your sceptre owre your mou,'
Ye feckless German lairdie.

Auld Scotland, thou'rt ower cauld a hole,
For nursin' siccan vermin;
But the very dogs in England's court,
They bark an' howl in German.
Then keep thy dibble in thy ain hand,
Thy spade but an' thy yairdie;
For wha the deil now claims your land,
But a wee, wee German lairdie ?
Tab/Sheet Music
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