Happy Birthday Robert Burns
January 25, 1759I put together a quick medley of SEVERAL of his better known songs, tunes only, no singing. With the exception of the first song in the medley "Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation", I have been playing the other songs for several years so I play them from memory and have no tablature written for them.
My YouTube video ROBERT BURNS MEDLEY
Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation
.. the original Scots dialect.....Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
Sae famed in martial story
Now Sark rins over Solway sands
An Tweed rins to the ocean
To mark where England's province stands -
Sic a parcel o rogues in a nation!
What force or guile could not subdue
Through many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor's wages
The English steel we could disdain
Secure in valour's station
But English gold has been our bane -
Sic a parcel o rogues in a nation!
O would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration
We're bought and sold for English gold -
Sic a parcel o rogues in a nation!
My PDF file of "rudimentary" tab for this song
Such a Parcel of Rogues (simple tab)
Analysis of the key phrase in the song
Some historical information on the subject of the song
A beautiful acapella rendition
Fiona Forbes sings Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation
A stunning harmony version
MacPherson's Lament
(true story)
Farewell ye dungeons dark and strong
Farewell, farewell to thee
McPherson's life will no be long
On yonder gallows tree
Farewell, farewell to thee
McPherson's life will no be long
On yonder gallows tree
Chorus:
Sae rantingly, sae wantingly and sae dauntingly gaed he
He played a tune and he danced around below the gallows tree
Sae rantingly, sae wantingly and sae dauntingly gaed he
He played a tune and he danced around below the gallows tree
Take off these bands from off my hands
And give to me a sword
For there's not a man in all Scotland
But I'd brave him at his word
And give to me a sword
For there's not a man in all Scotland
But I'd brave him at his word
There's some come here for to see me hung
And some to buy my fiddle
But before that I do part with her
I'll break her through the middle
And some to buy my fiddle
But before that I do part with her
I'll break her through the middle
He took his fiddle in both of his hands
And he broke it o'er a stone
Saying "There's nae ither hand shall play on thee
When I am dead and gone"
And he broke it o'er a stone
Saying "There's nae ither hand shall play on thee
When I am dead and gone"
The reprieve was coming o'er the Brigg of Banff
For to set McPherson free
But they put the clock a quarter before
And they hanged him from a tree
For to set McPherson free
But they put the clock a quarter before
And they hanged him from a tree
Mirk, Mirk, the Midnight Hour (Dark, dark, the Midnight Hour)
This "situation" of Lord Gregory and his dismissed lover, mother of his child, has been memorialized in many songs. I sing this song, as well as another version of the story, "Lord Gregory" on my YouTube Channel
Lyrics:
O MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour
And loud the tempest’s roar;
A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower
Lord Gregory, ope thy door
An exile frae her father’s ha’
And a’ for loving thee;
At least some pity on me shaw
If love it may na be
And loud the tempest’s roar;
A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower
Lord Gregory, ope thy door
An exile frae her father’s ha’
And a’ for loving thee;
At least some pity on me shaw
If love it may na be
Lord Gregory, mind’st thou not the grove
By bonie Irwine side
Where first I own’d that virgin love
I lang, lang had denied
How aften didst thou pledge and vow
Thou wad for aye be mine!
And my fond heart, itsel’ sae true
It ne’er mistrusted thine
Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory
And flinty is thy breast:
Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest byO, wilt thou bring me rest!
Ye mustering thunders from above
Your willing victim see;
But spare and pardon my fause Love
His wrangs to Heaven and me
And flinty is thy breast:
Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest byO, wilt thou bring me rest!
Ye mustering thunders from above
Your willing victim see;
But spare and pardon my fause Love
His wrangs to Heaven and me
Comin' Thro the Rye
Comin thro' the rye, poor body,
Comin thro' the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin thro' the rye
[CHORUS.]
Oh Jenny 's a' weet poor body
Jenny 's seldom dry,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie
Comin thro' the rye.
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body —
Need a body cry.
[CHORUS.]
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen;
Gin a body kiss a body —
Need the warld ken!
[CHORUS.]
Gin a body meet a body, comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body cry;
Ilka body has a body, ne'er a ane hae I;
But a' the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
Gin a body meet a body, comin frae the well,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body tell;
Ilka body has a body, ne'er a ane hae I,
But a the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I.
Gin a body meet a body, comin frae the town,
Gin a body kiss a body, need a body gloom;
Ilka Jenny has her Jockey, ne'er a ane hae I,
But a' the lads they loe me, and what the waur am I
Westlin Winds
Link to Analysis and Interpretation
Link to a popular version of the song Dick Gaughan singing Westlin Winds
Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns
Bring autumn's pleasant weather
The moorcock springs on whirring wings
Among the blooming heather
Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain
Delights the weary farmer
And the moon shines bright as I rove at night
To muse upon my charmer
Bring autumn's pleasant weather
The moorcock springs on whirring wings
Among the blooming heather
Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain
Delights the weary farmer
And the moon shines bright as I rove at night
To muse upon my charmer
The partridge loves the fruitful fells
The plover loves the mountain
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells
The soaring hern the fountain
Through lofty groves the cushat roves
The path of man to shun it
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush
The spreading thorn the linnet
The plover loves the mountain
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells
The soaring hern the fountain
Through lofty groves the cushat roves
The path of man to shun it
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush
The spreading thorn the linnet
Thus every kind their pleasure find
The savage and the tender
Some social join and leagues combine
Some solitary wander
Avaunt! Away! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion
The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry
The fluttering, gory pinion
The savage and the tender
Some social join and leagues combine
Some solitary wander
Avaunt! Away! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion
The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry
The fluttering, gory pinion
But Peggy dear the evening's clear
Thick flies the skimming swallow
The sky is blue, the fields in view
All fading green and yellow
Come let us stray our gladsome way
And view the charms of nature
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn
And every happy creature
Thick flies the skimming swallow
The sky is blue, the fields in view
All fading green and yellow
Come let us stray our gladsome way
And view the charms of nature
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn
And every happy creature
We'll gently walk and sweetly talk
Till the silent moon shines clearly
I'll grasp thy waist and, fondly pressed,
Swear how I love thee dearly
Not vernal showers to budding flowers
Not autumn to the farmer
So dear can be as thou to me
My fair, my lovely charmer
Till the silent moon shines clearly
I'll grasp thy waist and, fondly pressed,
Swear how I love thee dearly
Not vernal showers to budding flowers
Not autumn to the farmer
So dear can be as thou to me
My fair, my lovely charmer
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