1. |
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We are singing through the hard times,
singing through the hard times
Working for the good times to come
We are singing through the hard times,
singing through the hard times
Working for the good times to come.
Sometimes our living gets so dark and lonesome
It seems like there's nothing we can do
So we reach out to each other, and raise a song together
And let our voices carry us through.
When the war clouds gather it's so easy to get angry
And just as hard not to be afraid
But we know in our own hearts no matter what happens
You just can't turn your back and walk away.
Hand in hand together we help each other carry
The life that beats within us every day
And if we can learn to give, to walk and talk and live
That world of peace won't be so far away.
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2. |
Blue Murder
02:24
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They say it's easy money
A full page ad in the local rag,
Always nice and sunny.
Come on lad, and pack your bag.
Day in, day out, everyday they drive us harder.
Day in, day out, they're getting away with blue murder.
It's off to West Australia.
Leave the old hometown behind.
Be a winner, not a failure.
There's money to be made in the Wittenoom Mine.
Day in, day out, everyday they drive us harder.
Day in, day out, they're getting away with blue murder.
They took me to my quarters,
A stinking bed in an old tin shed.
Got my working orders,
With a lamp, and tin hat on my head.
Day in, day out, everyday they drive us harder.
Day in, day out, they're getting away with blue murder.
My girl she's a cook and a cleaner.
Works all day in the canteen hall.
Six days since I've seen her.
Some don't have no girl at all.
Day in, day out, everyday they drive us harder.
Day in, day out, they're getting away with blue murder.
Sweeps the fine blue dust up.
Tips it into an old wool pack.
Never had a check-up.
If she did she'd get the sack
Day in, day out, everyday they drive us harder.
Day in, day out, they're getting away with blue murder.
I feel my health is failing
Working down in the thick blue dust.
The kids play in the tailings.
The boss says work, and work I must.
Day in, day out, everyday they drive us harder.
Day in, day out, they're getting away with blue murder.
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3. |
Will ye go to Flanders
04:58
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Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
There we'll get wine and brandy,
Sack and sugar candy,
Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
Tae see the bonnie sodgers there, my Mally-o?
They'll gie us pipes tae blaw,
Coats o red an kilts sae braw
Aye the finest o them a', o my Mally-o.
Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
Gin I tak the royal shillin there, my Mally-o?
Will ye tae a foreign shore?
For tae hear the cannons roar?
An the bloody shouts o war, o my Mally-o?
Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
Alang wi a the Heilanders, my Mally-o?
Ye'll hear the captain call,
And ye'll see the sergeant crawl,
And the sodgers how they fall, o my Mally-o.
Will ye go tae Flanders, my Mally-o?
Tae see the chief commanders, my Mally-o?
Ye'll see the bullets fly,
And the sodgers how we die,
And the ladies loudly cry, o my Mally-o.
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4. |
Mrs Barbour's Army
03:33
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Chorus
'Cos I'm frae Govan an' ye're frae Partick
This yin here's fae Bridge o' Weir and thon's fae Kinning Park
There's some that's prods, there's some that's catholic
But we're Mrs. Barbour's Army and we're here tae dae the wark
In the tenements o' Glesga in the year one nine one five
It was one lang bloody struggle tae keep ourselves alive
We were coontin' oot the coppers tae buy wor scraps o' food
When the landlords put the rent up just because they could
A' the factories were hummin', there was overtime galore
But wages they were driven doon tae subsidise the war
Oot came Mrs. Barbour from her wee bit single end
She said, I'll organise the lassies if I cannae rouse the men
Mrs. Barbour made a poster sayin', We'll no' pay higher rent
Then chapped on every door of every Govan tenement
She said, Pit this in the windae an' when you hear me bang the drum
We'll run oot an' chase the factor a' the way tae kingdom come
When the poor wee soul cam roon' he was battered black and blue
By a regiment in pinnies that knew just what tae do
Mrs. Barbour organised the gaitherin' o' the clans
And they burst oot o' the steamie armed wi' pots an' fryin' pans
Mrs. Barbour's Army spread through Glesga like the plague
The maisters got the message and the message wisnae vague
While oor menfolk fight the Kaiser we'll stay hame and fight the war
Against the greedy bastards who keep grindin' doon the poor
If ye want tae stop conscription stand and fight the profiteers
Bring the hale big bloody sandpit crashin' doon aroon' their ears
We'll no' starve, said Mrs. Barbour, While the men we ca' wor ain
Are marchin aff tae hae their hairt's blood washed like watter doon a drain
Well it didnae take the government that lang tae realise
If you crack doon on the leaders then the rest will compromise
They arrested Mrs. Barbour and they clapped her in the jile
Then they made an awfy big mistake, they let her oot on bail
She ca'd the men oot o' the factories on the Clyde and on the Cart
They marched up tae the courthoose sayin', We'll tear the place apart
Mrs. Barbour's Army brought the maisters tae their knees
Wi' a regiment in pinnies backed by one in dungarees.
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5. |
Hallowe’en
02:34
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The tattie-liftin's nearly through,
They're ploughin' whaur the barley grew,
And aifter dark, roond ilka stack,
Ye'll see the horsemen stand an' crack
O Lachlan, but I mind o' you!
I mind foo often we hae seen
Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween
The nakit branches, an' below
Baith fairm an' bothie hae their show,
Alowe wi' lichts o' Hallowe'en.
There's bairns wi' guizards at their tail
Cloorin' the doors wi' runts o' kail,
And fine ye'll hear the screichs an' skirls
O' lassies wi' their droukit curls
Bobbin' for aipples i' the pail.
The bothie fire is loupin' het,
A new heid horseman's kist is set
Richt's o' the lum; whaur by the blaze
The auld ane stude that kept yer claes—
I canna thole to see it yet!
But gin the auld fowks' tales are richt
An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,
O freend o' friends! what wad I gie
To feel ye rax yer hand to me
Atween the dark an' caun'le licht?
Awa' in France, across the wave,
The wee lichts burn on ilka grave,
An' you an' me their lowe hae seen—
Ye'll mebbe hae yer Hallowe'en
Yont, whaur ye're lyin' wi' the lave.
There's drink an' daffin', sang an' dance
And ploys and kisses get their chance,
But Lachlan, man, the place I see
Is whaur the auld kist used tae be
And the lichts o' Hallowe'en in France!
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6. |
Herrin’s Heids
03:44
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Fit’ll we dae wi the Herrin’s heids?
Fit’ll we dae wi the Herrin’s heids?
We’ll mak them intae loafs o breid,
Herrin’s heids, loafs o breid and all manner o things.
Of all the fish that swim in the see,
The herrin it is the fish for me,
Sing, fa la la lie doe, Fa la la lie doe,
Fa la la lie doe lie day.
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s eyes?
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s eyes?
We’ll mak them intae puddins and pies,
Herrin’s eyes puddins and pies,
Herrin’s heids loafs o breid and all manner o things.
Of all the fish that swim in the see,
The herrin it is the fish for me,
Sing, fa la la lie doe, Fa la la lie doe,
Fa la la lie doe lie day.
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s fins?
Fit’ll we dae we the Herrin’s fins?
We’ll mak them intae needles and pins,
Herrin’s fins needles and pins,
Herrin’s eyes puddins and pies,
Herrin’s heids loafs o breid and all manner o things.
Of all The fish that swim in the see,
The herrin it is the fish for me,
Sing, fa la la lie doe, Fa la la lie doe,
Fa la la lie doe lie day.
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s back?
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s back?
We’ll mak it intae a sailor cried Jack,
Herrin’s back sailor cried Jack,
Herrin’s fins needles and pins,
Herrin’s eyes puddins and pies,
Herrin’s heids loafs o breid and all manner o things.
Of all the fish that swim in the see,
The herrin it is the fish for me,
Sing, fa la la lie doe, Fa la la lie doe,
Fa la la lie doe lie day.
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s tail?
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s tail?
We’ll mak it intae a boat wi a sail.
Herrin’s tail boat wi a sail,
Herrin’s back sailor cried Jack
Herrin’s fins needles and pins,
Herrin’s eyes puddins and pies,
Herrin’s heids loafs o breid and all manner o things.
Of all the fish that swim in the see,
The herrin it is the fish for me,
Sing, fa la la lie doe, Fa la la lie doe,
Fa la la lie doe lie day.
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s belly?
Fit’ll we dae wi the herrin’s belly?
We’ll mak it intae a wifey cried Nelly.
Herrin’s belly wifey cried Nelly,
Herrin’s tail boat wi a sail,
Herrin’s back sailor cried Jack,
Herrin’s fins needles and pins,
Herrin’s eyes puddins and pies,
Herrin’s heids loafs o breid and all manner o things.
Of all the fish that swim in the see,
The herrin it is the fish for me,
Sing, fa la la lie doe, Fa la la lie doe,
Fa la la lie doe lie day.
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7. |
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“Oh tell me fit was on yer road, ye roarin Norland wind?
As ye come blawin frae the land that's never frae ma mind.
Ma feet they traivel England but I'm deein for the North.”
“Ma man, I saw the siller tides rin up the Firth o Forth.”
“Aye wind, I ken them weel eneuch an fine they fa and rise,
And fain I'd feel the creepin mist on yonder shore that lies.
But tell me as ye pass them by, fit saw ye on the way?”
“Ma man, I rocked the rovin gulls that sail abin the Tay.”
“Bit saw ye naethin leein wind afore ye come tae Fife?
For there's muckle lyin 'yont the Tay that's mair tae me nor life.”
“Ma man, I swept the Angus braes that ye hivna trod for years.”
“Oh wind, forgie a hameless loon that canna see for tears.”“
“And far abin the Angus straths I saw the wild geese flee,
A lang, lang skein o beatin wings wi their heids toward the sea,
And aye their cryin voices trailed ahint them on the air.”
“Oh wind, hae mercy, haud your wheesht for I daurna listen mair.”
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8. |
A Bottle O’ the Best
03:08
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When your time o' work is done, and ye've earned yersel' some fun
In the pub ye start tae sup, ye're drinkin', clinkin' every cup
And the pint pots ye're preusin', and ye're boozin' till ye're
snoozin'
And ye're losin' a' yer senses tae the drink.
But when a' these folks sae prim are swiggin' swill up tae the
brim
Nips o' gin and numbered Pimms wi' sugar rubbed aroon the rim
Let them drink until they drop, for the sly, besotted Scot
He'll be breakin' oot a bottle o' the best.
Aye, tae hell wi' a' the rest, give me a bottle o' the best
The amber bead I'll down wi' speed; it's no bad taste or waste,
just greed
And a whisky still I'll kill, I'll drink my fill and if I spill a
gill
You know I will, I'll lick it off the floor.
I'll not touch Teachers, Grants nor Haig, gie me Bowmore or
Laphroaig,
Glenfarclas in a glass, well ye can throw the top away
For there's no use tae pretend that ye'll need the top again
When ye've broken oot a bottle o' the best.
And the English like their ale warm and flat, straight oot the
the pail
They aye slitter wi' their bitter; it would slaughter Jack the
Ripper,
And they sip their cider rough, they huff and puff and sniff and
snuff,
And as if that's no' enough, they start tae sing.
When Jones' Ale Was new, or John Barleycorn's fine brew
Fathom the Bowl, the Barley Mow, Bring us a Barrel, just a few
But their songs are far surpassed by the tinkle in the glass
When you've broken oot a bottle of the best.
And the Irish, wi' their Pride o' Erin, think they can deride
Oor golden watter wi' their patter when they're oot upon the
batter,
Sixteen hundred pints o' stout, a drinkin' bout wi' oot a doubt
And if they've no' got the gout they start tae dance.
Father O'Flynn and Larry O'Gaff, Biddy the Bowlwife, for a
laugh
The Young May Moon, the Garry Owen, the Blackbird drives them
daft
But their jigs have no appeal tae a Scot who likes tae reel
When he's broken oot a bottle o' the best.
Aye, a bottle o' the best, that's what it is, nae idle jest
Nae Mickey Finn, nae rotgut gin, nae bathtub wine that tastes
like Vim
Have no fear, it's not like beer; malt whisky's strong and bright
and clear
And it's also bloody dear, but what the hell.
And it belts ye in the belly like a heavyweight Lochgelly
A glow begins tae grow six in a row turns ye tae jelly
Then ye dream, perchance tae sleep, but ye fall down in a heap
For ye've broken out a bottle of the best.
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9. |
Blackleg Miner
02:34
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It's in the evenin after dark
When the blackleg miner creeps to work
With his moleskin pants an dirty shirt
There goes the blackleg miner
He takes his pick an doon he goes
To hew the coal that lies below
But there's not a woman in this town row
Would look at a blackleg miner
Oh, Delaval is a terrible place
They rub wet clay in the blackleg's face
Around the pit-heaps they run a foot race
To catch the blackleg miner
Divvn't gan near the Seghill mine
Across the way they stretch a line
To catch the throat an break the spine
Of the dirty blackleg miner
Tak your tools an gear as well
An hoy them doon the pit of hell
Doon ye go an fare ye well
Ye dirty blackleg miner
So join the union while ye may
Don't wait until your dying day
For that may not be far away
Ye dirty blackleg miner
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10. |
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Oh dear me the mills gaein fast,
And the pair wee shifters canna get nae rest;
Shiftin bobbins, coorse and fine,
They fairly mak ye wark for your ten and nine.
Oh dear me I wish the day wis done,
Rinnin up an doun the pass is nae fun;
Shiftin, piecin, spinnin - warp, weft and twine,
Tae feed an claith ma bairnies affen ten and nine.
Chorus
Oh dear me the mills gaein fast,
And the pair wee shifters canna get nae rest;
Shiftin bobbins coorse and fine,
They fairly mak ye wark for your ten and nine.
O dear me, the warld's ill divided,
Them that works the hardest are the least provided;
But I maun bide contented, dark days or fine,
There's no much pleisure livin affen ten and nine.
Chorus
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11. |
The John Maclean March
03:41
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Hey, mac, did ye see him as he cam doun by Gorgie
Awa owre the Lammerlaw an north o the Tay?
Yon man is comin an the hail toun is turnin out
We're aa shair he'll win back tae Glesca the day
The jiners an hauders-on are merchin fae Clydebank
Come on nou an hear him he'll be owre thrang tae bide
Turn out Jock an Jimmie, leave yer cranes an yer muckle gantries
Great John Maclean's comin hame tae the Clyde.
Argyll St and London Road's the route that we're merchin
The lauds frae the Broomielaw are here, tae a man!
Hey Neil, whaur's yer hauderums, ye big Heilan teuchtar
Get yer pipes, mate, an merch at the heid o the clan
Hullo, Pat Malone, shair A knew ye'd be here, so,
The red an the green, laud, we'll wear side by side
Gorbals is his the day an Glesca belangs tae him
Nou great John Maclean's comin hame tae the Clyde.
Forward tae Glesca Green we'll merch in guid order
Will grips his banner weill, that boy isnae blate!
Aye, weill, man, thair's Johnnie nou, that's him thair the bonnie fechter
Lenin's his feir, laud, and Liebknecht's his mate
Tak tent whan he's speakin for thae'll mind whit he said here
In Glesca, our city, an the hail warl besides
Och man the scarlet's bonnie, here's tae ye Heilan Shonie
Great John Maclean's comin hame tae the Clyde.
Aye weill, whan it's feenisht A'll awa back tae Springburn
Come hame tae yer tea, John, we'll sune hae ye fed
It's hard wark the speakin, och, A'm shair he'll be tired the nicht
A'll sleep on the flair, mac, an gie John the bed
The hail city's quiet nou, it kens that he's restin
At hame wi's Glesca freens, thair fame an thair pride
The red will be worn, ma lauds, an Scotlan will merch again
Nou great John Maclean has come hame tae the Clyde.
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12. |
Guise O’ Tough
03:58
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I gaed up tae Alford,
for tae get a fee
Twas there i met wi Jamie Broon
an' wi' him I did agree
Chorus
Dum, a hi dum do, a hi dum day
Hi dum a diddle dum, a hi dum day
I engaged wi' Jamie Broon
in the year o' ninety wan
Tae gang an' ca' his second pair
an' be his orra man
When I gaed hame tae Guie a Tough
was on an evening clear
Frae oot aboot some orra hoose
the gaffer did appear
I'm the maister o' the place
an' that's the mistress there
An' if ye want some bried and cheese
ye'll surely get ye're share
I sat an ate at cheese an' bried
till they did roon me stare
And then I thocht that it was time
tae gang an' see ma pair
I gaed tae the stable
my pairie for tae view
An' fegs they were a dandy pair,
a chestnut and a blue.
Then early next mornin'
I gaed tae the ploo'
But lang, lang or lowsin' time
my pairie gart me rue.
My ploo' she wisnae workin' weel,
she widna thraw the fur
The gaffer says "There's a better ane
at the smiddy tae gang for"
When I got hame the new ploo'
she pleased me unco weel
But I thocht she wid dae better gin
she had a cuttin' wheel.
We hae a gallant baillie, Wallace is his name,
He can fair redd up the kye when he taks doon a kame.
We hae a little baillie
and Jamieson's his name
And he's gane doon tae Alford
an' raised an awfy fame.
He's gane doun tae Charlie Watt's for tae hae a dram,
Lang, lang e'er I gaed doon the laddie couldnae stan.
I wrocht awa' a month or twa wi' unco little clatter
Till I played up some nasty tricks and broke the tattie chapper.
The gaffer he got word o' this and orders did lay doon
That if I did the like again he wad pit me frae the toon.
Noo my song is ended and I’ll no sing oney more
An' if ye be offended ye can walk ootside the door.
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13. |
Bring out the Banners
04:24
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In faded photo, like a dream,
A locomotive under steam
Rolls with the ranks of marching feet
And union banners on the street.
Chorus
Bring out the banners once again,
You union women, union men,
That all around may plainly see
The power of our unity.
I've seen those banners richly made
With symbols fair of craft and trade,
The union's names in red and gold,
Their aspirations printed bold.
Chorus
Boilermakers, smiths and cooks,
Stevedores with cargo hooks,
Declare their union strong and proud,
Rank on rank before the crowd.
Chorus
They won the eight-hour working day,
They won our right to honest pay,
Victorious their banners shone,
How dare we lose what they have won?
Today, when those who rule divide,
We must be standing side by side,
Our rights were bought with tears and pain,
Bring out the banners once again.
Chorus
Repeat Chorus
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14. |
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Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met or never parted?
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!
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15. |
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If you want to see the General, I know where he is,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to see the General, I know where he is,
He's sitting in his old armchair.
I saw him, I saw him, sitting in his old armchair,
I saw him, sitting in his old armchair.
If you want to see the Adjutant, I know where he is,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to see the Adjutant, I know where he is,
He's sitting in the Folies Bergere.
I saw him, I saw him, sitting in the Folies Bergere
I saw him, sitting in the Folies Bergere.
If you want to see the Captain, I know where he is,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to see the Captain, I know where he is,
He's knocking off the Adjutant’s wife.
I saw him, I saw him, knocking off the Adjutant’s wife,
I saw him, knocking off the Adjutant’s wife.
If you want to see the Sergeant, I know where he is,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to see the Sergeant, I know where he is,
He’s fiddling the company’s rum.
I saw him, I saw him, fiddling the company’s rum,
I saw him, fiddling the company’s rum.
If you want to see the corporal, I know where he is,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to see the Corporal, I know where he is,
He’s propping up the NAAFI Bar.
I saw him, I saw him, propping up the NAAFI Bar,
I saw him, propping up the NAAFI Bar.
If you want to see the Private, I know where he is,
I know where he is, I know where he is.
If you want to see the Private, I know where he is,
He’s hanging on the old barbed wire.
I saw him, I saw Him, hanging on the old barbed wire,
I saw him, hanging on the old barbed wire.
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16. |
Last Trip Home
04:45
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A've ay worked on farms and fae the start the muckle horses won ma heart,
Wi' big broad backs they proudly stand, the uncrowned kings o a' the land,
An' yet for a' their power and strength, they're as gentle as a summer's wind.
Chorus
So steady, boys; walk on; oor work is nearly done,
No more we'll till or plough the fields, the horses' day is gone,
An' this will be oor last trip home, so steady, boys; walk on.
You'll hear men sing their songs of praise, of Arab stallions in a race,
Or hunters that fly wi' the hounds, to chase the fox and run him down,
But none o' them compare I vow, tae a workin' pair that pulls the plough.
Chorus
Aw the years I've plied ma trade, an aw the fields we've ploughed and laid,
I never thought I'd see the time when a Clydesdale's work wid ever end,
But progress runs its driven course and tractors hae replaced ma horse.
Chorus
As we head back our friends have lined the road tae be there one last time,
Not one o' them will want tae miss, the chance tae see us pass like this,
They'll say they saw in years tae come, the muckle horses' last trip home.
Chorus
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17. |
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They wouldn't hear your music
And they pulled your paintings down
They wouldn't read your writing
And they banned you from the town
But they couldn't stop you dreaming
And a victory you have won
For you sowed the seeds of freedom
In your daughters and your sons
In your daughters and your sons
Your daughters and your sons
You sowed the seeds of freedom
In your daughters and your sons
Your weary smile it proudly hides
The chainmarks on your hands
As you bravely strive to realise
The rights of everyone
And though your body's bent and low
A victory you have won
For you sowed the seeds of justice
In your daughters and your sons
I don't know your religion
But one day I heard you pray
For a world where everyone can work
And children they can play
And though you never got your share
Of the fruits that you have won
You sowed the seeds of equality
In your daughters and your sons
They taunted you in Belfast
And they tortured you in Spain
And in that Warsaw ghetto
Where they tied you up in chains
And in Vietnam and Chile
Where they came with tanks and guns
It's there you sowed the seeds of peace
In your daughters and your sons
And now your music's playing
And the writing's on the wall
And all the dreams you painted
Can be seen by one and all
Now you've got them thinking
And the future's just begun
For you sowed the seeds of freedom
In your daughters and your sons
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18. |
Coming Home
05:43
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Put a light in the window
Your brother’s coming home
Set a meal on the table
Your brother’s coming home
He’ll be tired and weary
After all these years alone
He’s coming home, your brother’s coming home
Take the chain from the door,
Your sister’s coming home
Open wide your arms
Your sister’s coming home
Don’t leave her standing there
After all the pain she’s known
She’s coming home, your sister’s coming home
Chorus
Coming home to a place they’ve never been
Coming home to a land they’ve never seen
Coming home to a family they have never known
A’ Jock Tamson’s bairns
Are coming home
He’s been angry and afraid
Your father’s coming home
He’s been hounded and betrayed
Your father’s coming home
And with every act of kindness
A seed of hope is sown
He’s coming home. Your father’s coming home
Chorus
Bring her in from the cold
Your mother’s coming home
Sit her down by the fire
Your mother’s coming home
Make her warm, make her welcome
Before the chance is gone
She’s coming home, your mother’s coming home
Chorus
From Iraq and Zimbabwe,
Your family’s coming home
And from Syria and Palestine
Your family’s coming home
Seeking rest and refuge
They have never known
They’re coming home, Your family’s coming home
Chorus
Open Up the Border,
Our family’s coming home
Increase the quota,
Our family’s coming home
One kin one family
And we all just want a home
They’re coming home our family’s coming home
Chorus
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Paul 'Bolshie' Brown Auckland, New Zealand
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