Posts Tagged ‘Scots’

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The Ben’s rise proud
The Loch’s ripple with life
The Glen’s lead the way
Bagpipes fill the air
Castles intimidating in stone
Glaring down on the populace
Cities filled with uniqueness
History spews from every pore
The golden life blood blends
To the core of your soul
Made from girders
Strong and true
The Bru courses our veins
With spice of life
A Scotsman with pride
We will live forever

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A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,                                        

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!

Address To A Haggis

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race!
Aboon them a’ yet tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy o’a grace
As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill,
Your pin was help to mend a mill
In time o’need,
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright,
Like ony ditch;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin’, rich!

Then, horn for horn, they stretch an’ strive:
Deil tak the hindmost! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit! hums.

Is there that owre his French ragout
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad make her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering, scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner?

Poor devil! see him owre his trash,
As feckles as wither’d rash,
His spindle shank, a guid whip-lash;
His nieve a nit;
Thro’ blody flood or field to dash,
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread.
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll mak it whissle;
An’ legs an’ arms, an’ hands will sned,
Like taps o’ trissle.

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer
Gie her a haggis!

Highland Mary

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around

The castle o’ Montgomery!
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie:
There Simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last Farewell
O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom’d the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp’d her to my bosom!
The golden Hours on angel wings,
Flew o’er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me, as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi’ mony a vow, and lock’d embrace,
Our parting was fu’ tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But oh! fell Death’s untimely frost,
That nipt my Flower sae early!
Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly!
And clos’d for aye, the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo’ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom’s core
Shall live my Highland Mary

National Pride

Posted: May 12, 2014 in Random
Tags: , , , , , ,

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Freedom from tyranic
Govermental regulation
Testbed for projects
That would destroy populious
Cuts and closures leveled
Causing economic disaray

From highland clearances
To poll tax levies
Closure of pits and ship yards strong
This Nation has fought and struggled on
With William Wallace,Robert the Bruce
And memories of battles like
Culloden,Stirling Brig and the sacking of York
Etched into the fabric of our Dna

In this year 2014
The Nation has the chance
To rise and be Independant
Of Westminster Gaze
Self sustaining and Scotland
Pride,beleif and hearts strong
Will guide the populious
To bannish wrong
Its in our hands we have the vote
The chance to clear the Nations throat

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Ain hert
Hauf hame
Hae guiser gowk
Gonnay gae gallas
Fur jings tuechter wean

Hud yer weisht
Ya cludgy muncher
Hoats keek jock
Lad o’pairts
Laldie ne’er palaver
Peely wally paw
Pechin up the closie

Pilbroch, jiggin
Puggle wi daunce
Cud coirie doon
Fir a week