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01
[Dick Black's Scottish Dance Band: accordion, bass, drums.
Three marches.]
02
A wik afore the mull wis due the mannie gaed 'is roonds
Tae organise a squadie fae the neeperin ferm toon.
At shafin time an hairst time there wis aye a fair bit hash,
Bit a croonin culmination cam the day we hid a thrash.
Noo the mull she cam the nicht afore, she wis most aafa late
And we plowtert in the gloamin tae git her livelled aff an
set,
Bit the mull men powkin here an there got a things sortit
oot,
For a stairt the followin mornin fan the men came in aboot.
Fin eence we'd got hir yokit twis a satisfyin
soun;
On a quiet day the hummin o't wis heard for miles aroon,
Especially fin an untimmed shafe gaed doon the makin o't
An she rifted oot a 'voomph' as it gaed rumblin owre 'ir throat.
The men fin gaithered in aboot gied fourteen o a crew;
An were pittan on tae haunle grain, tae fork or big a soo.
Ae mull lad did the feedin as the tedder gaed aroon,
Squirtin ile in a' the furlin bits tae keep 'er queelt doon.
Tthe forkers' work wis tirin, be it shaves or
be it strae,
Bit it wis nae near sae hard is humphin barley bags a' day.
Half-quarter bags were a' designed for little else bit graft,
For they left ye shakky leggit ere ye humphed them tae the
laft.
The laftie stairs aboot a toon had aye a nasty knack;
They were awkward tae negotiate wi onything on yir back;
There were nairra files, an neukit, but bi far the biggest
flaw
Wis the one in fower gradient gey near common tae them a'.
Fin we'd lowsed an got wir denner by the men
fae ither toons,
For critical comparison set aff upon their roonds.
They haikit here, they rakit there, gied this an that a powk,
For there's aye great fascination wi the gear o ither fowk.
Wi a' thing weel taen throuhand we adjourned tae the barn,
Tae tak the weight fae aff wir legs and swap the latest yarn,
Bit we hidnae lang tae lichter, for the mull resumed at een
An we spralloched up and raxed wirselves, tae start the aifterneen.
Twa wimmen at the lowsin kept the feeder weel
supplied
And a steady stour o grain wis bein baggit aff and weighed,
Bit the mannie in attendance wi a speculative ee
Wis girnin aboot quality, as well's the quantity.
Wi the rucks were by the easin vermin stairtit spewin oot,
Bit they jinkit oot o sicht again, wi bairns in het pursuit.
Little kennin that their hidie-holie widna laist fur lang,
For there's nae a lot o shelter fin ye start the hinmost gyang.
Fin she finished an got roadit and the men hid
worn awa
An eerie kin a silence seemed tae settle ower a',
For the cornyaird was nyakit an the foons a' strippit clean
Jist a strae soo and a heap o caff tae show she'd ivver been.
The traivellin mullie's lang defunct, she's fairly oot o grace
An ye'll seldom see a gaithrin noo o folk aboot a place,
For the modren mull's a combine, wi a steerin wheel an gears,
But there's files I thinks I hear her yet, a ghost o bygone
years.
03
[Ian Middleton poem. Transcription to come. Strange changes
is recording levels, perhaps mike is being moved. Drops to
nil just before end.]
04
[Tunes.]
05
[Poem. Transcription to come.]
06
[Tunes.]
07
[Tunes; mike noise.]
08
Aul Flossie she lay sleepin
Wi her nose upon her pa
Fan something started biting her
And she began tae cla.
Well she scrapit wi her hint leg
And she scrapit unco weel
Fan a fell out a muckle flech
And landed on the steel.
Weel steel, it wisnae a warm place
In the middle o the nicht
So flech it didnae hesitate
An it began tae shift.
Well it lowpit tae the airmchair
Raised it's sleekit head
An in the corner o the room
Spied the maister's bed.
Weel aul Jock lay sleepin
[snores] wi his moo gapin wide
The flech it lowpit on his chin
Hid a glower inside.
Na, na he said and lowpit aff
At's nae the place for me
So it creepit doon aneth his claes
And landed on his knee.
Oh aul Jock he wisna a modern chiel
For he sleepit in his sark
An the skin aroon his kneecap
Wis as teuch as ony bark.
But the flech remained undaunted
And gied a richt guid nip
Quite satisfied with fit it got
It shifted til his hip.
Anither bite and jumped again
It landed on his fit
It crawled up his instep
And started biting it.
The peer aul man had kittlie feet
And he began to lauch
The dog it barked, the wife sat up
Rail fleg't in the dark.
Dear Lord, dear Lord preserve us Jock
Hae ye tint yer wit?
But the mannie couldnae answer her
An tried tae claw his fit.
Well fit happened next I'll tell ye
Perhaps ye've maybe guessed
The flech gaed creepin up his sark
And landed on his vest.
Ach, crack a spunk and licht a lump
The guid wife roars tae Jock
She rummelt ower the heid o him
Sine put on er frock.
Calm yersel, an tell mi man
Noo I've got ower, ower ma fricht
Fit kind o cairry on de ye think ye're huddin
In the middle o the nicht.
But the mannie couldnae answer her
A he could dae wis pech.
Oh woman I may be wrang,
But I think it wis a flech.
A flech she roared, ach tik aff yer sark
A nd gies a look
Well he did what he was bidden
But his han' kinda shook.
Noo a' this fuss and bother
Jist proved ower muckle for the bug
So it lowpit fae the semmit
And bit the wifie's lug.
An noo I think ma pen's gaen dry
I'll gie ye a bed
Far dae ye think it lowpit next
Aha, nae far you think, Geordie loon
Gaed back tae Flossie's neck.
09
[Tunes. Accordion: Lovatt Scouts, Tobacco Bits, The Muckin
o Geordie's Byre]
10
The Reekin Lum, by Peter Buchan
Jock come oot till his gavel end, and he leaned
against the wa,
He lifted the snoot o his aul deen cape and he gaed his pow
a cla,
He lichted his pipe wi a sook and a smack ere he traivelled
back and for,
The same aul wey he'd daen for years, fae the hoose till the
sheddie door.
The watchkeeper's stars were bricht and clear
abeen in the frosty dark,
And the wind's cauld nose wisnae slow to learn that Jock's
wis a gey thin sark,
It wis five steps East. It wis five steps Wast. Wi a thocht
aboot this and that,
And nivver a sowl tae look near haun, but a myowling, prowling
cat,
And nivver a soun but the sooch o the win, and the girn o
the grumly sea,
For the bairns that had played in the street a nicht, were
far sleepy bairns should be.
It wis five steps East. It wis five steps Wast.
Wi a thocht aboot this and that,
Fan up fae the shore came a weel kent fit, twas his crony
aul Dod Watt,
A lang thin chiel, wi his neck weel rowd in a gravit sax fit
lang,
And throw the stumps o his broken teeth he wis fustlin an
aul Scotch sang,
A tune that wis aul as the hielan hulls, though he couldnae
gie it a name,
He wis gey sair made at the twirlie bits, but he fustled them
just the same.
S'is! Says he fen he sa oor Jock at his traivellin
up and doon,
Ye're the only driftin sowel I've seen this nicht in a the
toon,
Hiv ye nae a hame, are ye short o coal that ye're bird alone
oot here,
Ye'd be jist as warm if ye stood a file at the pint of the
convict pier.
Man, says Jock, I wis sittin fine in the cosy
ingle neuk,
Readin a bit and sing a bit and beatin an antrin heuk,
The dog wis straitched on the fender steel, wi a sleepy heid
on ma feet,
And I thocht that life wi its ups and doons could files be
unca sweet.
Fen doon the lum came a muckle flang and it
filled the hoose wi reek,
And I hosted sair and I cowkit mair like a first year loon
at sic,
My een wis waterin thick and fast, and my nose wis full a
sit,
So I've jist come oot for a breath e noo, for the air in ere's
nae fit.
S'is, says Dod, at's a peety noo. And he fell
in step wi Jock,
But nivver a word did he believe for Jock's wis lee'in folk,
Since ever they sail'd the stormy seas, their cod had aye
fower heids,
And the hens o them at wis fairmin folk laid eggs wi twa big
reeds.
It wis five steps East. It wis five steps Wast.
Wi a word aboot this and that,
Jock wi the reek fleein ower his heid, while Dod jist chowed
and spat,
And every drag wis a double lift and in ilkae heuk a skate,
And herrin ran doon the thirdship lids like a Hieland burn
in spate.
So they shot and hauled, they dodged and ran
through fair and conter seas,
And aye as the dark hoor later grew, aye, bigger grew the
lies,
Till oot o the nicht a fearsome yowl came dirlin, wild and
clear,
It still'd their speech, it stive'd their step, it froze their
hairts wi fear.
It wis Isie oot at the kitchen door, on the
hunt for her guid man Jock,
And she gyarded him up and she gyarded him doon, baith him
and a his folk,
Lood, aye looder grew her note and hicher grew her skirl,
It garred the cat take sheet wi fright, it garred the windaes
dirl,
He wis this, he wis that, he wis nithin guid, he wis idle
tae the bone,
And the only thing that brocht a smile wis the sicht o the
southerly cone.
He wis nivver oot, he wis nivver in, he wis
jist an orra drooth,
Fine did she ken fit wey he wis aye sae keen on a berth forsooth,
And aye her tongue gaed clatter clap, like the star'n o a
crippled deuk,
And the names that she ca'd her man at nicht wis niver seen
in the beuk.
Guid nicht, says Dod, till his leein freen.
I see the reek that's tae blame,
But it's time I wisnae here mysel, I've a reekin lum at hame!
11
[Tunes.]
12
[Tunes.]
13
[Tunes.]
14
[Tunes.]
15
[Tunes.]
16
[Tunes.]
17
It wis jist a skelp o the muckle firth, a sklyter o roch grun,
Fan grandfather's father broke it in fae the header and the
fun,
But Grandfather's sklaited barn and byre, brocht watter tae
the close,
Built fell dykes ben the bare brae face, and a cairt road
till the moss.
But wir father sottered tae the yard, and scraped
among bees,
He keepit fancy doos and dyeuks, that werenae ony ees,
He bocht aul wizened horse and kye, and scrimpet muck and
seed,
Syne cloocherin wi a craichly hoast, he dwined awa and died.
My mither's growin aul and deen, dilet and sma
looket tae,
But still she's maister o her work, my work, it maisters me,
Oh I'm tired o trauchellin oot and in, amon hens and swine
and kye,
Kirnin amon brookie pots and yirnin croots and fie.
I look far ower the Ythanside, tae Fyvie's laich,
lithe lands,
Tae Achterless and Bennachie and the mist blue Grampians,
There tae the hull o Benagoak and scunnered o the fairm,
Gin I bit daur, gin I bit daur, I'd flit this comin term.
It's ill to thole on the first spring day, fen
the black earth lies in clods,
Fan the teuchet's wallechin tae the ploo, and the sna dreer
rins on the roads,
Oh it's ill to thole on the still hairst gloam, fin the lifts
ableez a fire,
I staund and glower o the pail in my haund, on the road oot
till the byre.
But it's worst ava aboot Whitsun day, fan the
nichts are quaet and clear,
And the flooerin currants by the yard, and the green corn's
o the brear,
And the birds at give this hull it's name, the bird ye can
nivver see,
Sits doon the wid, by the watter side, and lauchs, lauchin
at me.
Flit, flit, ye feel, says the unco bird. There's
finer, couthier folk,
And kindlier country hine awa fae the hull o Benagoak.
But ma mither's growin auld and deen and she likes her ain
fireside;
It would brak her hairt tae leave the hull, but it's brakin
mine tae bide.
18
Noo a ma life I've aye been thocht a backward kinda chiel,
For I wis nivver kent tae bla, for I wis nivver feel,
But when I met Elisa Broon, I took her for a walk,
We baith walked on in silence, for we nivver tried tae talk.
But when we came back tae her door, gey bold
I must hae been,
For I squeezed her umbrella tops, sine she said I wis green,
Her mither keekin through the lock, had fa'n and shouted 'right!',
Till Lisa skelped him on the lug, the muckle gackit gype.
So I canna thole the weemin folk, they're far
ower cute for me,
Sometimes I think that a' ma days a bachelor I'll be,
But I jist crack anither spunk, and when I licht ma pipe,
It's soothin consolation tae a muckle gackit gype.
Noo ae day doon upon the shore, I thocht I'd
hae a dook,
So I took off ma beets and claes and tried to be a dyeuk,
Fan I come oot gey shivery, Losh, I felt all forlorn,
For deil a sign o ony claes were left that I had worn.
The only thing upon the sands wis jist a lassie's
sha'l,
So I dressed up masel in it, but I wis affa caul,
So takin a the back roads hame, fan Liza ower the dyke,
Yells, here's yer claes wi compliments, ye muckle gackit gype.
So I canna thole the weemin folk, they're far
ower cute for me,
Sometimes I think that a' ma days a bachelor I'll be,
But I jist crack anither spunk, and when I licht ma pipe,
It's soothin consolation tae a muckle gackit gype.
Last year while on my holidays, and waitin for
the train,
A bonnie lassie ran tae me, and said, dear sir it's plain,
Ye are a homely sort o man, will you be good and kind,
Just hold my baby till I see if I my husband find.
She shoved it in ma oxter, sine she turned and
run awa,
The train came in and I wis left still waitin for it's da,
Twas then I found twis just a doll, she'd daen't me watch
tae swipe,
As weel's ma cash, so I felt like a muckle gackit gype.
So I canna thole the weemin folk, they're far
ower cute for me,
Sometimes I think that a' ma days a bachelor I'll be,
But I jist crack anither spunk, and when I licht ma pipe,
It's soothin consolation tae a muckle gackit gype.
19
[Tunes.]
20
Noo it cam that I should leave the toon, a holiday tae tak,
I packed ma case and off I went tae the fairm o Burniebrak,
Ma uncle Jock and my auntie Kate, they met me at the steading
gate,
And welcomed tae fairm life in the country.
Wi ma peerie heels and ma pencil skirt, the
mud wis jist like glue,
I thocht that I'd be bored tae death afore the week wis through,
But sine I met the shepherd, Tam, a great big handsome hunk
o man,
And a man's a man for a' that in the country.
First he thocht he'd feed the yowes and he smiled
sae sweet tae me,
Ma breath grew fast, ma cheeks grew pink as we gaed ower the
lea,
But a bramble bush had scratched ma lug, and I tripped richt
ower his collie dug,
And stretched ma lens far sheep were safely grazing.
Wi ma peerie heels and ma pencil skirt, the
mud wis jist like glue,
I thocht that I'd be bored tae death afore the week wis through,
But sine I met the shepherd, Tam, a great big handsome hunk
o man,
And a man's a man for a' that in the country.
Then he thocht he'd wash the tups so he ca'd
them tae the fank,
Wi their muckle horns and rolling een, my god the smell was
rank,
Ma wellie boots were filled wi sharn, and ma frozen feet I
couldnae warm,
And I couldnae even cry his name for shiverin.
Wi ma peerie heels and ma pencil skirt, the
mud wis jist like glue,
I thocht that I'd be bored tae death afore the week wis through,
But sine I met the shepherd, Tam, a great big handsome hunk
o man,
And a man's a man for a' that in the country.
But my troubles were nae over yet, the kye were
still tae feed,
We cairted straw and neeps tae them and bedded doon their
???,
And syne he caught and held me fast, I thocht that I had breathed
ma last,
And he showed me hoo the lads court in the country.
Wi ma peerie heels and ma pencil skirt, the
mud wis jist like glue,
I thocht that I'd be bored tae death afore the week wis through,
But sine I met the shepherd, Tam, a great big handsome hunk
o man,
And a man's a man for a' that in the country.
Noo I'm gan back tae Glesca toon, the Palais
and the chippie,
Ma uniform's a' laid oot neat, a corporation clippie,
My waistband's getting affa ticht, the doctor's going tae
get a fricht,
When he hears fit I hae brocht back fae the country.
Wi ma peerie heels and ma pencil skirt, the
mud wis jist like glue,
I thocht that I'd be bored tae death afore the week wis through,
But sine I met the shepherd, Tam, a great big handsome hunk
o man,
And a man's a man for a' that in the country.
21
E'm Lizzie McNulty, E've got a hoos in the multi,
E've got a hoos in the multi, now I can look doon on you.
Oh we live on the twenty-fifth landin, that's
a hell o a height in the sky,
If ye go tae the windae and look doon, ye can see aeroplanes
flying by,
Oh ma husband big Tam disnae like it, he curses the place
upside doon,
He cannae get goin for his fly nip, I can see every pub in
the toon.
Cause E'm Lizzie McNulty, E've got a hoose in
the multi,
E've got a hoose in the multi, now I can look doon on you.
There's a rubbish chute oot on the landin, whaur
ye empty yer buckets and pails,
If the bairns are late in the mornin, it's a fine way tae
pit them tae scuill.
Cause E'm Lizzie McNulty, E've got a hoose in
the multi,
E've got a hoose in the multi, now I can look doon on you.
Oh ma neighbour she sent for the plumber, cause
she had something jammed in her flue,
The plumber says noo dinnae worry, cause I will be over the
noo.
Oh the wee plumber he knocked at my door, I'm tellin ye folks
here's the rub,
He says, is yer shite hoose not workin? I says no, he's across
in the pub.
Cause E'm Lizzie McNulty, E've got a hoose in
the multi,
E've got a hoose in the multi, now I can look doon on you.
22
I was born of Scottish parents one day when I was young,
That's why the Scottish dialect became my mother tongue,
I was the image o my faither, my mither she did vow,
And the girls all came and kissed me, oh I wish they'd do
it now.
Oh I wish they'd do it now, oh I wish they'd
do it now,
For the girls all came and kissed me, oh I wish they'd do
it now.
When I was only six months old the girls would
cuddle me,
They'd take me to their bosom, and sit me on their knee,
They'd rock me in the cradle, and if I made a row,
They'd take me intae bed wi them, oh I wish they'd do it now.
Oh I wish they'd do it now, oh I wish they'd
do it now,
For they'd take me into bed with them, oh I wish they'd do
it now.
At fourteen years of age, a finer lad could
not be seen,
They girls would come and take me out, to play upon the green,
They'd make the finest daisy chains, tae wrap around my brow,
And they'd tickle me all over, oh I wish they'd do it now.
Oh I wish they'd do it now, oh I wish they'd
do it now,
For they'd take me into bed with them, oh I wish they'd do
it now.
Those same girls would come and take me out,
to swim when it was mild,
Down to the river we would go, and run about so wild,
They'd splash the water over me, and dip me like a yow,
Then they'd roll me in the clover, oh I wish they'd do it
now.
Oh I wish they'd do it now, oh I wish they'd
do it now,
For they'd take me into bed with them, oh I wish they'd do
it now.
23
[Tunes.]
24
[Tunes.]
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