In Praise of Crows (© Bob Leslie 2021)
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01: Don’t Start the Revolution in the Morning
02: In Praise of Crows (Here, Pal, Have an Eyeball)
03: My Foolish Heart
04: Fickle as the Moon
05: Lest We Forget
06: Next Best Bed
07: Sittin’ in the Belly of the Whale
08: Hallowe’en
09: Peerie-Fool
10: Up in the Mornin
11: One Size Don’t Fit All
12: When Dreams Come Hame Tae Bide
Bonus Track:
Bess Millie
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THE BARREN FIG (© Bob Leslie 2019)
Click on song title to see lyrics!
01: Up, Carles, Dance!
02: Drover tae Cowboy
03: Upon a Foreign Shore
04: Westray Dons
05: I Thowt I Liked Winter
06: Nothing Else To Do
07: The Doodlemychat
08: Already Walking So Tall
09: Ye’ll Nivver Find a Souter Doun in Hell
10: Lands o the Sioux an the Cree
11: Hauf the Brains o Me
12: Beira
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Glossary of Scots Words Used in “The Barren Fig” & “In Praise of Crows”
There are many dialects of Scots – by birth, upbringing and ancestry, I use words from Glaswegian, Ayrshire, Lothian, and Orcadian forms, but have also picked up terms from Caithness, and Northern Scotland in general.
There has been some mingling of Gaelic or Gaelic-derived terms into Scots, and I’ve also absorbed some Gaelic directly. So, this glossary is a bit of a hotch-potch. The subject matter of the songs tends to make it clear which form of Scots is being used.
Click on the intial letter of the word to take you to that section:
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W Y
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In Praise of Crows …
Don’t Start the Revolution in the Morning
Gonna change the world
Overthrow the state
Start an insurrection, re-invent the human race
Burn up all my bridges
Be master of my fate
But if I’ve not made it to the barricades,
would you mind keeping my place?
First, I need a cup of coffee
Gimme some eggs and bacon too
Don’t start the revolution in the morning, boys
I don’t get up till after two
You know when there’s rebellion
I’m Johnny on the spot
Always looking for a cause, just tell me what you got
When you’re marching, I’ll be with you
Just might take some time
But sooner or later, I’ll be there, standing on the picket line
Karl Marx had an alarm clock
That rang out in the dark
John MacLean had a fevered brain
He got up with the lark
And Old Leon, at the crack of dawn
Just loved to greet the sun
Castro’s head was out of bed, before the birds had sung
Gimme some time to take a shower
Pick out some clothes, pull on my shoes
Don’t start the revolution in the morning, boys
Till three pm it’s up to you
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In Praise of Crows (Here, Pal, Have an Eyeball)
Ah heard while walkin a ma lane,
Twa corbies oan a deid man’s banes,
“Here’s meat a-plenty fir us that’s nane
We’re feastin here, pal, have an eyeball
Feastin here, pal,oh aye o eye”
Noo corbies thole the rain an snaw
Their lives are no tae bricht at aa
But naethin swaggers like a craw
“We’re feastin here, pal, have an eyeball
Feastin here, pal,oh aye o eye”
There’s much in corbies tae admire
Tho some despise their drab attire
It disna shaw the glaur an mire
An there’s aye the chance o eyeballs
Aye, there’s aye that chance, oh aye o eye
Tho in appearance dull an dun
They like a croud, they’re fu o fun
It’s wan fir aa, an aa fir wan
“We’re feastin here, pal, have an eyeball
Feastin here, pal,oh aye o eye”
They clear the laund o things deceased
As, whan Man’s foolish fechtin’s ceased,
In formal black like unco priests
“We’re feastin here, pal, have an eyeball
Feastin here, pal,oh aye o eye”
If life is teuch an haird tae bear
And ye’re complainin it’s no fair
Jist tell yersel there’s folk oot there
Wid gie their eyeteeth fir an eyeball
Wid gie their eyeteeth fir an eye
Sae tak yer cue frae oor freend Craw
An whan the winds o cruel fate blaw
Then fluff yer feathers oot an go
Oot lookin fir that tasty eyeball
Just lookin fir that eye, o aye, o eye
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My Foolish Heart
4 x [Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh my foolish heart]
Had a woman way back when
And she was fine to see
Held me tight throughout the night
And made a man of me
But I was young, balked at the fence
I’m older now and I’ve got more sense
But now she’s gone
My foolish heart
Suzie wasn’t built for speed
She just went in and out
Like JayLo and Beyoncé
She shook it all about
She wanted more than I could give
I lost twenty pounds and the will to live
But, oh, those fond memories,
My foolish heart
Carolina, tell me true
Why won’t you let me in
I give you all my money and
You throw it to the winds
You break my heart and run around
You’ve done the deed with half the town
But I still love you, oh,
My foolish heart
Now, I know that there’s women –
And more than one or two – who if this
Song makes me a million
Will form up in a queue
Now, I don’t care what their motives are
I’m too old to be particular
Come on, Baby, drive my car
Oh, my foolish heart
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Fickle as the Moon
Ah wis a boy of 18 summers when Ah met ye
Lookin for some meanin oan the road
Ye hid left yer hame and faimly back in Paris
Quand tu m’as dit “Bobby, je t’aime”
Ah gied ye aa ma hert an sowel
We wur mairrit in the founess o oor folly
A sunny dey in Edinburgh toun
Wi a cast o lang-hairt revolutionaries
An ma mammy wondrin
Whit her crazy son wis daein nou
Ye wur untrue tae me, darlin, in yer fashion
An yer fashion wis as fickle as the moon
Aa ye left wir empty relics o oor passion
An the bitter ash o love that burnt tae brightly an tae soon
Ye remindit me o some exotic flouer
Patchouli perfume, beads an flowing gouns
An yer slightly fracturt English wis like music
As Ah daunst there tae yer tune
Till aa the melody ran doun
Hivvin tastit somewhit o the jeys o freedom
Ah shoulda kent ye widna bide fur lang
Efter three months Ah wis left alane and empty
Teuk three year tae realise
Whit felt sae richt coud gang sae wrang
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Lest We Forget
There’s a crowd there at the Cenotaph
Auld sodjers staunin smert
Behind the politicians an the Queen
Wi the memory o their comrades
Wance mair tearin at their herts
Aa the fallen wans they’ll nivver see again
An the ancient words are spoken
But tae whom are they addressed?
Tae the auld lads wha have paid war’s bloody debt?
Or tae them that’s staunin up the front
That buy an sell the bombs an guns
An nivver hear the words “Lest we forget”
“Lest we forget” the wars that no-one ever wins
“Lest we forget” the broken minds, the shattered limbs
There’s a crowd there at the Cenotaph
As the vendors o the guns
Wha’ll sell tae onybody
Place their wreaths
An somewhere else a sodjer dies
Civilians in their turn
An poppies bring nae comfort
Tae the deid
Nor tae the wans that’s wounded
In their bodies or their minds
Good friends they lost, an some they’d barely met
The wans that made it hame
An the wans they left behind
Nae reminder needed here lest they forget
“Lest we forget” we pay the piper
Wi the armaments we sell
Sae that we may live in peace
While ithers die in Hell
When the crowd’s gone fae the Cenotaph
The ghosts are staunin yet …
Lest we forget
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Next Best Bed
(Lyrics adapted from the prose poem ‘Anne Hathaway’ from The World’s Wife by Carol Ann Duffy. Published by Picador, 1999, © Carol Ann Duffy. Reproduced by permission of the Estate c/o Rogers, Coleridge & White Ltd., 20 Powis Mews, London W11 1JN )
The bed we loved, a spinning world
Of forests, castles, cliff-tops, seas
And in it he would dive for pearls
Catch shooting stars which fell to earth
As kisses he gave me
My love who lived and laughed with me
Lies still inside my widow’s head
But once he wrote my very dreams
And held me on that next best bed.
Some nights his touch would spark a dance
And he would move me to its time
Like pages from his writer’s hands
My body’s echo, assonance
Became his softer rhyme
Romance and drama, laughter, love,
Played by touch, by scent, by taste,
In our best bed, our guests above,
How dull the lives that they dreamt of
And slept their prose away.
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Sittin’ in the Belly of the Whale
Jonah he didn’t want to speak out
Ran away and he took sail
A storm blew up and he went down
Right inside a whale
If you speak your mind in these troubled times
You might end up in jail
They’ll steal your soul and swallow you whole
You’ll be sitting in the belly of the whale
Sitting in the belly of the whale, boys
Sitting in the belly of the whale
It’s warm and dry, though the ocean’s outside
You don’t have to worry ’bout the winds and tide
You can’t see where you’re goin
And the air is growin stale
But at least you’re aware, there’s so many don’t care
That they’re sittin in the belly of the whale
We all like our home comforts
Don’t want to tax our brains
Some take the view there’s better things to do
Than marching in the rain
But we’re all in this together
They’d better get off their tails
If they sit around gonna slide right down
To the exit of the belly of the whale
The moral of this ditty
The message of this song
It’s time to cut our way out
For we don’t have very long
‘Fore we all end up digested
Like night soil in a pail
No place to hide for Jonah’s tribe
We’re all sitting in the belly of the whale
Last Time:
They’re turnin’ brown
Sittin in the belly of the whale
And slidin’ down
Sittin in the belly of the whale
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Hallowe’en
Midst graveyard stones, and auld dead bones
Where witches sip their barley brew
A brownie fiddler bows a reel
And all the fey folk dance it round
As those who oft repentantly
Confessed and begged redemption
Now show no shame as round they twirl
With partners neither
Law nor Kirk would sanction
It’s Hallowe’en, and we’ve risen from our graves
Hallowe’en, unforgiven and unsaved
Hallowe’en, one night we’re not Old Satan’s slaves
Every Jack O’Lantern soul
That ever robbed a begging bowl
Has come to Earth to scare you all
On Hallowe’en
There’s horseshoes hanging on the doors
All closed and barred and locked-up tight
As through the curtains drift their prayers
That we’ll not visit them tonight
For we’re the ones that walk the Earth
But once in every curséd year
My pleasure ‘tis to howl and screech
And laugh at how you run when I draw near
We’ll whistle through your letterbox
And down your chimney we shall come
Your bedroom doors, we’ll make them creak
And fright your souls to Kingdom Come
But pay no heed if you should hear
Our show is naught but bluffing
That we are only wind and air
Sound and fury, signifying … nothing
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Peerie-Fool
Peerie-Fool, spin an weave
Fur a princess tae deceive
Spinners, spin, an teasers, tease
Thee neem she’ll nivver chance hid!
Maak the threed, spin fur yer life
Seun Ah’ll hae whit ne’er wis mine
Keep the cloot an win the wife
Play the fiddle, dance hid!
Queen’s dowters in a giant’s lair
Tae weave his wool tae cloot sae fair
The trows cam knockin at the door
But twa turned them away
Withoot their help, they lost their hides
The third the peerie fowk let bide
An asked them wance they were inside
Whit favour they wid pay
A yellow-heided peerie bern
Then asked whit wark she wantid deun
A trade instead o payment taen
Her hert or guess his neem
Tae weave her threed he made a vow
An took the wool back tae his knowe
Aa through the night worked every trow
Tae help him win the game
An owld wife tae the princess caem
Tae tell her o the trow’s real neem
The princess thowt tae play a game
When the bern caem near
“Ah think thee neem is Tooriebeuy”
Peerie-Fool, he jumped fir joy
“Or is it maybe Bobopoy?”
He’s won her, that wis clear
But laughter turned tae rage an pain
When he fand oot she kent his neem
“Oh, Peerie-Fool, Ah’m won the game!”
He cursed an ran away
The cloot wis piled inside the door
It covered every inch o floor
The giant tellt her “Weave nae more,
Thoo’llt live anither day.”
The princess funnd her sisters’ skin
Pat skin and boady back again
A muckle caisie they hid in
Alang wi half his gair
She covered them wi grass sae high
Sae they escaped the giant’s eye
Said ‘twas a gift tae feed the kye
Her mither held sae dear
When thoo returns just een mair load
Thoo’llt hae tae kerry up the road
An then I swear tae man an Goad
Thee wark will aa be deun
The wife hid in the caisie-oh
The giant geed whar she wid go
Whar watter biled an mighty blows
Laid him deid on the ground
Peerie-Fool, span an wove
The threed that wid a giant claithe
But then she did deceive them baithe
An bravely she did chance hid!
Peerie-Fool in shame has fled
The giant at her door lies deid
An wi his gold sae weel she’ll wed
Play the fiddle, dance hid!
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Up in the Mornin
(Lyrics by Robert Burns)
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
Sae loud and shrill’s I hear the blast,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
Up in the morning’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.
The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A’ day they fare but sparely;
And lang’s the night frae e’en to morn,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.
Up in the morning’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.
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One Size Don’t Fit All
Big Bum Bella had a skinny little fella
His name was Moustache Sam
She shook like a jelly on a gyroscope
And he looked like a matchstick man
Ah, people talked, as they always do, said
“Who’d have ever thought of teaming
up those two?”
Well, Bella and her fella just took a bow together
And this is what they sang:
One size don’t fit all
Short, fat, skinny, or tall
We come in different shades
Swing in different ways
One size don’t fit all
The other half of your orange
Might be a grape or a melon ball
Even ugli fruit can look quite cute
‘Cos one size don’t fit all
Sergeant Stan was a tough policeman
He lived with Sydney Shine
Stan played football on a Saturday
And Syd liked dress design
You’d never have guessed that they’d get on
But they both liked Abba and Celine Dion
Like the Ancient Greeks they’d sing this song:
One size don’t fit all
Old Fred Slade was eighty-eight
When he married his Honey Bun
She’d just turned thirty, talked kinda dirty
And they seemed to have a lot of fun
Well his doctor warned him ’bout his amorous bride
Said sex was virtual suicide
Said Fred “Well, if she dies, she dies!”
One size don’t fit all
You mustn’t criticise it
One size don’t fit all
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When Dreams Come Hame tae Bide
There’s a wind blaws in the highest trees
As Ah walk oot ma lane
It sings sae clear, it sings sae fierce
O Liberty an Hame
There’s naught Ah’ve heard
Wi sweeter tune
Tae move ma sowel tae cry
That Ah wid live till past that morn
When dreams come hame tae bide
When dreams come hame tae bide right here
An base deception’s gaun
When we can turn oor ship o State
Tae face toward the dawn
Then let the winds o Freedom roar
We sail upon the tide
An port nae langer seems sae faur
When dreams come hame tae bide
Though aa the slaves o powers great
Deride oor sense an worth
Their witless taunts, their perjur’t claims
We’ll treat as they deserve
An grasp oor future wi baith haunds
Tae pit the past tae flight as
Scotland wakes frae slumber and
Her dreams come hame tae bide
Wi canny thought Ah chose ma way
Ah’ll no turn back again
The rich man’s press, reaction’s crew
Ah fear nae mair than rain
Sae gang wi me oan Freedom Roads
An lift yer heid wi pride
That we aa live on Scotland’s shore
Whaur dreams come hame tae bide
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Bess Millie
She selt winds tae sailors, an luck charms tae whalers
An blissins tae Hudson’s Bay men
They wid come tae Bess Millie, an pey her right freely
Tae mak sure they’d see land again
Fore they’d tak sail fae Orkney, they’d struggle up Brinkie’s Brae
An the spaewife the islands aa kent
For sixpence wid sell them a breeze in a bag
An they’d aa coont hid money weel spent
Whin the revenue cutter cam up tae the islands
Tae pit doon the smugglers’ schemes
She curst Captain Phillips, an threitent his crew
Tae send them aa tae Fidler’s Green
But the Captain he stuid firm an telt her he’d burn doon
Her hoos gin she didna gie in
Sa they made an accord, an she blisst aa on board
Even offert tae sell him a wind
Eyes blue as the seas whar folk claimt she’d bin seen
Conversin wi selkies an trows
Near a hunder year owld whin she telt Walter Scott
The tale o the pirate, John Gow
No a teeth in her heid, bit still shairp as a blade
An the author wrote doon every line
Then she bylt up her tea an she spak him a spell
Sa the rest o his travels war fine
She selt winds tae sailors, an luck charms tae whalers
An aa their hopes oan her war peend
Bess Millie the spaewife o owld Stromness toun
A real seafarers’ fair-wither freend
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……………………………………………………………
The Barren Fig …
Up, Carles Dance
(excerpt from A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle by permission of the publishers, adaptation and additional lyrics © Bob Leslie 2019)
O Scotland wis the barren fig.
Up, carles, up and roond it jig.
Scotland wis the barren fig.
Up, carles, we wid dance!
A miracle, oor only chance.
Up, carles, up and we wid dance!
A miracle, oor only chance.
Up, carles, dance!
Auld Moses took a dry stick and
Straightweys it floo’ered in his hand.
A miracle, oor only chance.
Up, carles, we wid dance!
Pu’ Scotland up, and wha can say
It widna bud and blossom tae.
A miracle, oor only chance.
Up, carles, dance!
Nou, lang past Hugh MacDiarmid’s day
Thon fig’s in fruit, the ba’s in play
An miracles are near at hand
Up, carles, we shall dance!
Jist wan mair footstep tae advance
Up, carles, up, then we shall dance!
Jist wan mair footstep tae advance
Up, carles, dance! Hey!
O Scotland wis the barren fig.
Up, carles, up and roond it jig.
Scotland wis the barren fig.
Up, carles, we wid dance!
But, we shall sing an we shall pley
Thon fig’s in fruit, we’re oan oor wey
An miracles are near at hand
Sae up, carles, we shall dance!
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Drover tae Cowboy
Ah remember auld fireside
Tales o the liftin
O kye tae Lochaber,
Wi the Prince yet oan Skye
Macmurchaidh Riabhaich
Surprised the bold reivers
Left nane bit their watchman
Tae tell hou they died
On the Montana ranges,
Yon story’s repeated
Wi rustlers no reivers,
Aa weel airmt wi guns
When Stuart’s men caught them
A week ago Sunday
At first there wis thirty,
Then there wis none
Fae drover tae cowboy
Fae Hielans tae homesteads
Ah crossed the Great Watter in ‘79
Wi iron wire fences
The railroads an Clearances
Naethin wis left fir a man o ma kind
As a boy Ah wid follae
Ma faither tae Falkirk
The Tryst wis in season
An then in its prime
We’d sleep in oor plaids,
An we’d drink an be merry
An trade wi the Drovers
Fae Berwick an Tyne
Nou Ah sit wi a rifle
At night ‘neath the Rockies
Oan guard wi the beasts
Against wolf pack an lion
Ah sing in the dairkness
Fir silence is lonely
It keeps the kye calm,
An it eases ma mind
When we roond up the herds
We are Scots, Gaels, and Irish
We’re black and we’re Spanish
Shoshone and Crow
In the heat o the summer
An cauld o the winter
The work needs us aa
That’s aa we need tae know
And in early Summer
The mountains are bonnie
Ah hunt the wild deer
An Ah drink fae the spring
Ah’m savin ma siller
Tae send back tae Braemore
An bring ower the lassie
That maks ma hert sing
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Upon a Foreign Shore
An island boy wha went tae war
Wis follaein a dream
O farin tae exotic launds
Sae faur across the sea
An right enough
It wisna bad
Wance training days war o’er
Till he saw things nae man shoud see
Upon a foreign shore
Although his army rank wis low
He lacked nae self-esteem
An strove tae mak his unit prood
The best that it coud be
Wi newfund purpose
Straight and tall
He coudna ask fur more
Till he saw things nae man should see
Upon a foreign shore
At times, tae ready wi his fists
Tho’ wance mair faur fae strife
He hauds oan tae his anger
As tho’ it war his life
An drinks tae draw
The curtain oan
The Hell that cam before
Whan he saw things nae man should see
Upon a foreign shore
Torn remains, hung in a tree
Lit by a fiery flare
Enemy or ally
Sae haurd tae know or care
A bairn that caught a bullet
Jist fur talkin wi the men
An comrades blithe and lively
That he’ll nivver see again
Back tae his isle, he willna go
He fears tae loss control
In front o freends an kindred
And the lass he used tae know
A paper cup
In front o him
He begs his bed an board
An tries tae live wi whit he saw
Upon a foreign shore
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Westray Dons
The Westray Dons are dark and bowld
At sea they hiv nae fear
Fir Philip’s cause, their faithers saild
Fae distant Finisterre
When Draco sent the Spanish fleet
Flee’n o’er the faem
That steady sailors an their sons
wid caa these Isles their haem
Westray Dons, Westray Dons,
Spanish blood an Orkney herts
Cheust keep them sailin on
While tradin in the Shetland ports
wi goods fae Pierowall
twa kegs o oail, Hugh Petrie bowt
an laid them in the howld
Some oors fae shelter, night cam doon
cheust as the wind an sea
in their quahrrel tossd the watter till
the sailors thowt they’d dee
Said Don Petrie,
“Tak the wheel, gudeman
an keep her oan her wey
Wir fate we maan tak in wur hands
if we’ll see land the day”
An then tae calm the stormy waves
he broachd the kegs o oail
that smoothd the seas an let them sail
tae herbour oan Fair Isle
Westray Dons
Don Gilbert widna pey the Earl
aal he claimd wis his due
Sae Patrick he hid taen da laa
tae apprehend the crew
That wi’oot licence fae the Earl
tae Norroway they’d saild
an tae Kirkwall shackld they maan go
tae thole it in his jail
Weel canny wis Don Gilbert
an he bid the earlsmen bide
“‘Tis ower late tae sail the night,
Stey till the mornin tide”
The chin an brandy flow’d sae free
it laid them oan the flair
sae the Westray Dons they stelt their boat
an the Earl cheust tore his hair
Westray Dons
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I Thowt I Liked Winter
(Adapted, with permission, from a poem by Orcadian poet Ingrid Grieve – additional lyrics © Bob Leslie 2019)
Ah’m seek o this wather
Hid’s attry an grey
Hid’s niver stop rainan fae the turn o the days
Ah’m plitteran aboot in the gutter and weet
An I cunna mind last
Ah hid warm and dry feet.
I thowt I liked winter
Bit ah’m changed ma hert
The wind alwis blows fae the cowldest o erts.
There’s ice an there’s sleet there
tae mak yer face sting
I thowt I liked winter
Nou I long fir the spring.
Me lips are aal chappid
me nose is bright reed
I cunna go withoot a kep on me heed
Ah’m glad o me fire
An a gless o good cheer
Tae help me git by the dark days o the year
Cunna wait fir the spring
tae git gan at a pace,
withoot being bent double wae rain in me face
Bit sat at me fire
I hear a faint bleat, at least
I’ve the good fortune that Ah’m no a sheep.
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Nothing Else To Do
There’s a criminal in the courtroom
An he’s guilty as aa Hell
Let’s pu the roof doon oan ‘im
Jist tae show oor strength o will
If the jurors an the judge aa dee
We’ll weep a tear or two
Then we’ll tell the world quite simply
There wis nothin else tae do.
Nothin else tae do
Ye aa saw hou bad he’d bin
Nothin else tae do
An oor consciences are clean
Fir damage that’s collateral
We might weep a tear or two
But if ye’re in the wey o Judgment Dey
There’s nothin else tae do
A laddie broke a windae
An anither sang a song
At 2 o’clock this mornin
Ye ken fine that that wis wrong
Sae we’ll impose a curfew
And we might shoot wan or two
Jist tae set a fine example
Fir there’s nothin else tae do
Nothin else tae do
“Boys will be boys” ye claim
Nothin else tae do
Bit wi’re actin in yer name
Fir damage that’s collateral
We might weep a tear or two
But if ye’re in the wey o Judgment Dey
There’s nothin else tae do
In a country by a desert
Whaur guid folk lived aa their deys
They raised their bairns and worked hard
Noo they’re deid or oan the waves
They kent nothin o the gunmen
Wha were only passin through
Bit we bombed their hames tae ruin
There was nothin else tae do
Nothin else tae do
Sey it three times an it’s real
Nothin else tae do
Hiv we forgotten hou tae feel
Fir damage that’s collateral
We might weep a tear or two
But if ye’re in the wey o Judgment Dey
There’s nothin else tae do
Nothin else tae do
They aa shout it fae their thrones
Nothin else tae do
Heids o bone and herts o stone
Collateral’s a price they’ll pay
Next time it might be you
If ye’re in the wey o Judgment Dey
There’s nothin else tae do
Oh, the Romans made a wasteland
And they caad it peace oan Earth
They set a bargain price oan jist whit
Human life wis worth
Nou the weapon-makars flourish
They’ve learnt that lesson too
Oor leaders sell their sowls tae them
They’ve nothin else tae do
Nothin else tae do
The decisions hiv bin made
Nothin else tae do
Bit launch a new Crusade
Yet damage that’s collateral
Paints ower whit is true
It’s jist anither name fir murder
Bit there’s nothin else tae do
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The Doodlemychat
Whaur’s the doodlemychat, the thingummybob,
the hoojimiflippery, whitsitsname?
Ah thought it wis next tae the kenwhitahmean
Bit that’s no there either, oh, whit’ll Ah dae?
The verra dab fir ivvery need
An perfect tae finish thon thing Ah wis at
O’ aa the doohickeys that ivver Ah hid
there’s nivver a wan like ma doodlemychat
Yer hingy’s divine, a whoosit is fine
Bit they’re nae use at aa
Fir this thing that Ah’m at
Oh, kin ye no see there’s definitely
Indisputable need for a doodlemychat?
Whaur’s the doodlemychat, the thingummybob,
the hoojimiflippery, whitsitsname?
It’s easily seen, it’s blue, or it’s green,
The minute ye see it ye’ll ken whit Ah mean
Whaur’s the doodlemychat, the thingummybob,
the hoojimiflippery, whitsitsname?
Ah thocht it wis next tae the kenwhitahmean
Bit that’s no there either, oh, whit’ll Ah dae?
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Already Walking So Tall
An empty house that’s full of souvenirs
Every scuff and scrape records the passing of the years
But nothing can replay childhood’s yesterday
That bird had to fly once it saw the sky
Wishing I could hear once more again
Those pure unfettered cries of joy or pain
The changes day by day, the laughter as they’d play
For all my smiles of pride, there’s something lost inside
And what I see, a part of me just can’t believe at all
Seemed such a distant day, when they’d just walk away
But they’re already walking so tall …
They’re already walking so tall
And now the hours that once just flew away
Creep in their petty pace from day to day
What I did before, I don’t remember anymore
Guess I’ll just have to learn, now that I’ve time to burn
So each will make a way that is their own
I will sing my songs again and follow where those go
Our paths will cross at times, but nevermore entwined
Quite as they used to be, now that they’re flying free
An empty house that’s full of souvenirs
Every scuff and scrape records the passing of the years
But nothing can replay childhood’s yesterday
That bird had to fly, just like you and I
First time we saw the sky
Once we saw the sky
Yes, we saw the sky
Click here to return to The Barren Fig Song List
Ye’ll Nivver Find a Souter Doun in Hell
Oh, the Earl o’ Hell’s guid weskit,
it’s derker than his hert
An’ it’s studdit wi the souls o’ those wha’ve sinned
His sark is rid as Hellfire
an his trews are velvet smert
Bit his feet they gang unhapt wi socks or shin
Fir they’re cloven like a goat’s,
split richt up the seam
An there’s nae infernal cobbler tae be fund
Wha cin mak a perr o’ brogues
that wid ease them whan he walks
Oan the burnin, jaggit stanes o’ his hame grund.
Fir … aa the honest souters that gang shewin aa the world
Are faur tae busy wi their clientele
Tae booze or hure their lives awaa,
as tae their lasts they’re thirlt
Sae ye’ll nivver find a souter doun in Hell
Noo wee Mattie wis complainin that
he nivver goat a rest
As he toilt awa’ fae dawnin tae the dusk
He remarkt, “Oh, whit Ah widnae gie
if only Ah wir blest
Wi gowd enough tae free me fae this task.”
In an instant his wee shoapie
wis fillt wi’ fire an smoke
As an eldritch figure steppt oot o the blaze
Asbestos-bottomed Oxford shoes,
Beelzebub bespoke
“Size 65, wide-fittin, if ye please.”
They priggit ower the price required
fir Matt tae mak the shin
An finally they cam tae an accord
Confirmt by contract, signt in blood,
upoan a virgin’s skin
Which Mattie thocht wis takkin things too faur
Penalties fir late completion
wir o the standard kind
Fir example, if there wir a week’s delay
Then aa the hounds o Hell wid eat
his liver an his lights
“Ah’m hard bit fair,” he heard auld Satan say.
Bit whaur tae find a hide sae big an
strong enough tae thole
Fire an brimstone an the torments down below?
D’y’ ivver mind o yon stuffed elephant
they kept in Kelvingrove?
An wondert whaur that pachyderm did go?
Weel, it made twa lovely uppers
fir the Devil’s dancin gear
Matt reinforced the toecaps wi the tusks
Sae Auld Nick hid horns upoan his feet
as weel as next his ears
An he professed himself as pleased as Punch
Noo Mattie goes oan cruises,
an drives a vintage Rolls
An he’s bought a mansion up oan Hyndland Hill
Tho’ he struck a deal wi Satan,
an selt him baith his soles
Ye’ll still nivver find a souter doun in Hell.
Click here to return to The Barren Fig Song List
Lands o the Sioux an the Cree
Fir the laird we wir on ca’
As the work wid come and go
Chon and me fir brave adventure hid a thirst,
Sae we signt the ither day
Wi the man fae Hudson’s Bay
Noo the laird kin go an whistle fir his hairst
Oh, pack thee fiddle, Chon,
Fir wur leavin in the morn
On the greatest exploit we shall ivver see
As the guns fire o’er the Ness
We’ll be sailin fir the Wast
Tae the Lands o the Sioux an the Cree
Tae the Lands o the Sioux an the Cree
It’s nine hunder ‘ear or more
Since wir folk first touch’t these shores
The finest sailors that wid ivver be
Guidit only by the stars
But they nivver sailt sae far
As wur gaan tae go the morn,
thee an me
Tho the watter’s wide and cowld
Chon an me are brave, and bold
Fir the salt o Scapa’s rinnin in wir veins
We kin earn six pound a year
Fir tae buy a ferm back here
Whar we’ll both tak wives
an raise a dose o bairns
Oh, Freya, dry yer eyes
Hid’s worth waitin for the prize
Five year will pass an Ah’ll be comin hame
Then we’ll maerry an buy land
An thoo’ll be prood o thee man
An he’ll nivver hae tae
go tae sea again
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Hauf the Brains o Me
Ah’m a jumped-up proletarian
Tae nane Ah bou the knee
Ah’ve seen the world, raised bairns,
And been tae university
A trade union man for freedom
And a country tae set free
An ye’ll nivver meet a lord
Wha’s sportin hauf the brains o me
Ah, ma mither’s folk were minin stock
ma faither’s went tae sea
an though they worked, were jist as guid
as aristocracy
But they nivver stertit ony wars
or sent young folk tae dee
fir the interests o a lord wha’s sportin
hauf the brains o me
Bit aa the Pomp an Circumstance
Folk dearly loo tae view
Ermined capes and coronets
Their world’s red, white, an blue
It’s as if a dug wid pey its fleas
Fir aa the hairm they do
Bit they keep thir knees a-bendin
Aa thon forelock-tuggin crew
Bit it’s “Royal” this an “Royal” that
whaurever ye may be
Frae concert ha’s tae bridges
an oor laund’s geography
An there’s gowks sae daft as swally that
they’re glued tae their TV
Whaur they’ll nivver see a lord wha’s sportin
hauf the brains o me
Bit whit o human worth when dressed
in honest dignity?
Naethin rivals Independent thocht
an sensibility
Ah’d pit money oan it, in yer life,
ye’ll nivver meet or see
ony birkie cried a lord wha’s sportin
hauf the brains o me.
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Beira
Wance Beira made mountains
An haimert them doon
Wrocht rivers and glens wi a will
Loch Ness an Loch Awe
She made them an aa
Then sat doon tae rest oan her hill
She wis Winter’s blue dame
An she ruled dour an cowld
Frae her seat oan bare Nevis side
Whaur she searched wi her ee
Ower the laund an the sea
Fir somewan tae mak her a bride
Beira, she looks fir her hero
Tae gie her the kiss that caas Spring
Throu the nichts aw sae cowld
Withert an owld
Winter’s Queen waits fir her King
Beira, she looks fir her hero
Tae gie her the kiss that caas Spring
An wid mak her wance mair
A lassie sae fair
Winter’s Queen waits fir her King
Beira the Cailleach
Her herr white as snaw
Herds her deer while
the wind’s makkin mane
Her staff is their guide
Nivver faur frae her side
They’re aa that she hauds as her ain
While she stirs Corryvreckan
She cries tae the stars
An the burns burst their
banks wi her tears
Oan Nevis she stauns
An lays storms ower the laund
While awaitin a chynge in the year
Angus the Bodach
Is cloth’d aa in green
An his spirit is young as the year
As the Bhealltain fires burn
The season will turn
Wi each step tae his luve he draws near
Noo the Bodach he fechts
Throu the holly an broom
An climbs up the wild mountainside
Tae be wi his Queen
An tae him sae she seems
Fir his hert sees the maiden inside
Beira, she smiles at her hero
As he gies her the kiss that caas Spring
An Beira wance mair
Is Queen Bride sae fair
As she lies in the airms o her King
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A:
Aa/Aal – all
Ah – I
Airm – arm
Airt/Ert – direction
Alwis – always
Anither – another
Attry – bitter
Auld – old
Awaa – away
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B
Ba/Baw – ball
Bairn/Bern – child, lad, small person
Baith – both
Beasts – domestic animals, esp. cattle
Bhealltain – Beltane, Spring festival
Bide – stay, remain
Birkie – fool, boisterous person
Bit – but
Bodach – old man, fertility spirit
Bonnie – pretty, good-looking
Bou – bow
Bowld – bold
Bowt – bought
Burn – stream
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C
Ca/Caa – call
Cailleach (pron. KYEach) – old woman, female nature spirit
Caisie – a large basket with a shoulder strap
Cam – came
Canny – clever
Carle – fellow, common man
Cauld/Cowld – cold
Chappid/Chappit – chapped
Chon – John
Cheust – just
Chin – gin
Chynge – change
Cloot – cloth
Corryvreckan – great whirlpool between the isles of Jura and Scarba in the Hebrides
Cry – call, name
Cunna – can’t
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D
Dab – suitable thing
Dee – die
Deid – dead
Dey – day
Derk – dark
Dose o – lot of, many
Doun – down
Dug – dog
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E
Ear – year
Ee – eye (pl. “Een”)
Ert/Airt – direction
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F
Fae/Frae – from
Faem – foam, sea
Faither – father
Fare – travel
Faur – far
Fecht – fight, struggle
Ferm – farm
Fillt – filled
Fir/Fur – for
Flair – floor
Fleein – flying
Flooer – flower
Follae – follow
Freend – friend
Fund – found
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G
Gan/Gaan – going
Gang – go
Glaur – mud
Gless – glass
Gie (pron. ghee) – give
Git – get
Goat – got
Gowd – gold, money
Gowk – fool, cuckoo
Grund – ground
Gude/Guid – good
Guidit – guided
Gutter – mud
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H
Haa – hall
Haem/Hame – home
Haimert – hammered
Hairm – harm
Hairst – harvest
Haud – hold
Hauf – half
Haurd – hard
Heid – head
Herbour – harbour
Herr – hair
Hert – heart
Hielans (pron. HEELinz) – highlands
Hid – it, had
Hiv – have
Hou (pron. “hoo”) – how
Howld – hold (of a boat)
Hunder – hundred
Hure – to lead a wild life
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I
Ivver – ever
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J
Jaggit – jagged
Jist – just
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K
Ken – know
Kep – cap
Kin – can
Kye – cattle (singular: coo)
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L
Laa – law
Laird – lord, landlord
Lane – “aa ma lane” On my own
Laund – land
Loss – lose
Lang – long
Liftin – rustling
Luve – love
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M
Ma/Me – my
Maan/Maun – must
Macmurchaidh Riabhaich (pron. macMURRachy REEVach – “ch” as in “Bach”), name of an 18thC Clan Chieftain. The name means “The freckled son of the Sea-Warrior”.
Maerry/Merry – marry
Mair – more
Mak – make
Makar – maker, poet
Mane – complaint, moan
Mither – mother
Morn (the morn) – tomorrow
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N
Nae – no
Naethin – nothing
Nane – none
Nicht – night
Niver/Nivver – never
Norroway/Norrowa – Norway
Nou – now
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O
Oail – oil
Oan – on
Ony/Oany – any
Oor – our, hour
Ower – over
Owld – old
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P
Peerie/Peedie – little (peerie used more in Shetland, has been replaced in most of Orkney by peedie but still appears in folk-tales and place-names)
Perr – pair
Pey – pay
Pit – put
Plaid (pron. PLAY-d) – large piece of woolen cloth that doubles as garment and blanket
Pley – play
Plitteran – splashing
Pound – pound, pounds
Prig – haggle, bargain
Prood – proud
Pu – pull
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Q
Quahrrel – quarrel
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R
Rainan – raining
Reed/Rid – red
Richt – right
Rinnin – running
Roond – round
Reivers – cattle thieves
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S
Sae – so
Sailt – sailed
Sark – shirt
Shewin – shoeing
Shid – should
Shin – shoes
Shoapie – small shop
Siller – money, coins, silver
Smert – smart
Snaw – snow
Souter – cobbler, shoemaker
Sowl – soul
Stane – stone
Stelt – stole
Stert – start
Stey – stay
Straightweys – immediately
Studdit – studded
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T
Tae – to
Tak – take
Teuch – tough, chewy
Thee – thee, you, thy, your
Thirlt – bound, enslaved
Tho – though
Thocht – thought
Thole (“th” as in “bath”) – bear, put up with
Thon – that (Scots has 3 indicators: this, that, & thon/yon – the last is used for more remote or abstract items)
Thoo – thou, you
Toilt – toiled
Trow – general Orcadian word for supernatural beings, e.g. fairies – may derive from “troll” or Norse “draugr” (hill-dweller)
Tryst – annual cattle-traders’ meeting at Falkirk
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U
Unco – peculiar, uncommon(ly)
Unhapt – unclothed, unwrapped
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V
Verra – very
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W
Wae/Wi – with
Wan – one
Wance – once
War – were
Watter (pron. WAHter) – water
Weel – well
Weet – wet
Weskit – waistcoat
Wey – way
Wha (pron hWA or hWAW) – who
Whan – when
Whar/Whaur – where
Whit – what
Windae – window
Wioot – without
Wid – would
Widna/Widnae – wouldn’t
Wir – were
Wir/Oor – our
Wis – was
Wisna – wasn’t
Wrocht – wrought, made
Wur – we’re
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Y
Yer – your
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Yon – see “Thon”
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Bob Leslie 