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The Scots [A Dirge]
Black Scots and red Scots,
Red Scots and black;
I hae dealt wi’ the red Scot,
An’ dealt wi’ the black.
The Red Scot is angry
Among the sons o’ men—
He’ll pay you a bawbee,
An’ steal it back again.
Black Scots and red Scots,
Red Scots and black;
I hae dealt wi’ the red Scot,
An’ dealt wi’ the black.
The Black Scot is frien’ly—
A brither an’ a’—
He’ll pay you a bawbee,
An’ steal back twa.
The Ginger Scot o’ a’ Scots,
The warst shade o’ Scot,
For he’ll pay ye naething,
An’ tak’ a’ you’ve got.
Black Scots and red Scots,
Short Scots an’ lang,
Ginger Scots an’ bald Scots—
I dealt wi’ the gang.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Scots Wha' Hae
Scots, wha' hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has often 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 pow'r
Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's King and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw?
Freeman stand, or freeman 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 usurper low!
Tyrants fall in ev'ry foe!
Liberty's in ev'ry blow!
Let us do or die!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Robert Bruce's March To Bannockburn
Scots, what 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 will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
Wha, for Scotland's King and Law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or Free-man fa',
Let him on wi' me!
By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We sill 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!
poem by Robert Burns
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Scots Wha Hae
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 of battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power -
Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor's knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha's sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
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!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Scots, Wha Hae Wi' Wallace Bled
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!
Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's power—
Chains and slavery!
Wha will be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman 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 ev'ry foe!
Liberty's in ev'ry blow!
Let us do or die!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Day I'll Make You Proud, Dad......! ! ! ! !
Dad, I'm flunked,
said me.....
Son, never worry,
I'm happy you tried.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm ditched,
said me, wailing.....
Son, never weep,
I'm happy someone made you realise the pain.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm expeled,
said me, embarrassed of copying in finals......
son, never shame of mistakes,
I'm happy you admit the wrongdoing......
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm sloshed,
said me, apologizing for being like that.....
Son, I'll help you to bed,
I'm happy you learned to apologize.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm paid,
said me, surrendering first salary....
Son, It's yours, keep it safe,
I'm happy you earned them legitimately.....
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm in love,
said me, shivering in fear.....
Son, choose the best, you deserve best,
I'm happy you don't miss mommy's love anymore......
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, I'm married,
said me, Kneeling for his blessings....
Son, blessings always on you since your birth,
I'm happy I dont have to sleep with you anymore......
ONE DAY I'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, DAD.....! ! ! ! ! ! !
YOU'LL SON, I RECKON.....
Dad, eventually I'm a dad,
exclaimed me, an infant in my hands.....
Son, I'm old, cant talk more,
I'm happy You're a perfect man.... He coughed....
ONE DAY HE'LL MAKE YOU PROUD, SON...! ! ! ! ! !
AS YOU MADE ME PROUD.....
poem by shinej K.P
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Sad Song
Living on borrowed times
Im in love with mary, queen of scots
Fourteen hundred ninety-three
And everythings like it should be
Im gonna stop wastin my time
Henry the fifth would have broken my arm
Sad song, sad song, doo, doo
Sad song, sad song
Living on borrowed times
Im in love with mary, queen of scots
Fourteen hundred ninety-three
And things are just like they ought to be
Primrose and kilts, primrose and spain
Forget me not, my queen of scots
Sad song, sad song, doo, doo
Sad song, sad song
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Drive
The dogfight days panted
In my face, in my rage
Pallid and weary from a hunger.
I can reckon the butterscotch fume
Lingering with a surreal tang
Of charred embitterment
And the malingering wails
Of alcohol staring daggers
Pummeling the desolation,
I can reckon the one way road
Where we used to flounder
Counting scars and cussing stars
And how I veered a trifle
And you turned a colossal pivot
Towards esoteric digression,
I can reckon with my head
Swaying in a garrote
Of my favored laces,
I can reckon the loss
And the fear of irrevocable damage
Let us press the streetlights gone
And wander slow and near,
And shot another bullet
To disappear in the long run
And stir past the vexation,
And stir past the apprehension
I will stand in front of the storms
Steadfast to the helm
With a dire need and desire
To drive the immovable communion.
poem by Norman Santos
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Staff Nurse:Old Style
The greater masters of the commonplace,
REMBRANDT and good SIR WALTER-only these
Could paint her all to you: experienced ease
And antique liveliness and ponderous grace;
The sweet old roses of her sunken face;
The depth and malice of her sly, grey eyes;
The broad Scots tongue that flatters, scolds, defies;
The thick Scots wit that fells you like a mace.
These thirty years has she been nursing here,
Some of them under SYME , her hero still.
Much is she worth, and even more is made of her.
Patients and students hold her very dear.
The doctors love her, tease her, use her skill.
They say 'The Chief' himself is half-afraid of her.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Song of the Edinburgh Academician
If ony here has got an ear,
He'd better tak’ a haud o’ me,
Or I'll begin, wi’ roarin’ din,
To cheer our old Academy.
Dear old Academy,
Queer old Academy,
A merry lot we were, I wot,
When at the old Academy.
There's some may think me crouse wi’ drink,
And some may think it mad o’ me,
But ither some will gladly come
And cheer our old Academy.
Some set their hopes on Kings and Popes,
But, o’ the sons of Adam, he
Was first, without the smallest doubt,
That built the first Academy.
Let Pedants seek for scraps of Greek,
Their lingo to Macadamize;
Gie me the sense, without pretence,
That comes o’ Scots Academies.
Let scholars all, both grit and small,
Of Learning mourn the sad demise;
That's as they think, but we will drink
Good luck to Scots Academies.
poem by James Clerk Maxwell
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When The Blue Hour Comes
Orbison/ crowell
The good times are all gone
The night keeps coming on so strong
You cant hold on, no matter what you do
Will there be someone who cares for you
When the blue hour comes?
When the blue hour comes?
And when your restless heart
Tears your world apart
And everywhere you turn
Its falling down on you
Will there be a light that shines for you?
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
Good times dont last forever
Sometimes its now or never
Darling, reach out for me
You know where Ill be
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes for you
If theres anything that you would have me do
Just call on me and Ill be coming through
I will always be there for you
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
I will always be there
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes
When the blue hour comes....(repeat to fade)
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sad Song
Staring at my picture book
She looks like mary, queen of scots
She seemed very regal to me
Just goes to show how wrong you can be
Im gonna stop wastin my time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
My castle, kids and home
I thought she was mary, queen of scots
I tried so very hard
Shows just how wrong you can be
Im gonna stop wasting time
Somebody else would have broken both of her arms
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
Sad song, sad song
...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In my end is my beginning.
quote by Mary Queen of Scots
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No more tears now; I will think about revenge.
quote by Mary Queen of Scots
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Irish seem to have more fire about them than the Scots.
quote by Sean Connery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well being as there's no other place around the place, I reckon this must be the place, I reckon.
quote by Curly Howard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The County Show
“Hello carrot, my word you do look tasty.”
“Oh, hello knife you too look pretty sharp
a cut above the rest I’d say, but let’s not be too hasty.”
“I say carrot, are you here for today’s county dinner? ”
“No, no not I, I’m a showpiece,
voted best of the show, a gold ribbon winner.”
“I knew you were special, lying next to the sole from Dover,
but surely you must know what you’re doing here
now that the county show is over? ”
“I reckon they want to show me off to all the local villagers.”
“Somehow carrot I think you’d better reckon again,
whilst I slice up the beans and cabbages.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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Work Song
Oscar brown jr, nat adderley
Breaking rocks out here on the chain gang
Breaking rocks and serving my time
Breaking rocks out here on the chain gang
Because they done convicted me of crime
Hold it steady right there while I hit it
Well reckon that ought to get it
Been
Working and working
But I still got so terribly far to go
I commited crime lord I needed
Crime of being hungry and poor
I left the grocery store man bleeding (breathing? )
When they caught me robbing his store
Hold it steady right there while I hit it
Well reckon that ought to get it
Been
Working and working
But I still got so terribly far to go
I heard the judge say five years
On chain-gang you gonna go
I heard the judge say five years labor
I heard my old man scream lordy, no!
Hold it right there while I hit it
Well reckon that ought to get it
Been
Working and working
But I still got so terribly far to go
Gonna see my sweet honey bee
Gonna break this chain off to run
Gonna lay down somewhere shady
Lord I sure am hot in the sun
Hold it right there while I hit it
Well reckon that ought to get it
Been
Workin and workin
Been
Workin and slavin
An
Workin and workin
But I still got so terribly far to go
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One cannot imagine Scots music and song without the contribution of Burns.
quote by Len G. Murray
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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