Get all 46 fiffdimension releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Poems & Lyrics (in the Scotch dialect) (1856), Quietism (2024), Electric (yang) / Acoustic (yin) - 2CD compilation 1998-2023, electric (yang), acoustic (yin), Live 2023, Gamelan Dimensi Kelima (Indonesia, 2014), Elevate (2023), and 38 more.
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1. |
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MY native land, my native land, To sing thy praise I’ll try, For I nae ither garland have Around thy brow to tie. I winna sing of wars you’ve seen, Nor blood once on you shed; I winna sing the noble deeds Your gallant sons once did.
But I will of your mountains sing, Your caverns, and your glens; Where Solitude in all his pomp In mighty grandeur reigns. And I will of your valleys sing, And heathy knowes so fair, For beauty in her gayest charms Is ever lingering there.
That there are fairer lands on earth, I readin agree; But what are all those fairy elimes, Sweet home, compar’d with thee 2 Then, wheresoe’er I chance to stray, Or wheresoe’er I roam; I’ll ever long and wish for thee, My dear lov’d Scottish home.
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THE cauld blast of winter Is howling o'er the moor ; The groves which smiled in summer days , Seem cheerless , lone , and bare . The mellow warblers of the wood Nae langer chant their lay ; For , oh ! it's a bitter , biting blast , The blast of a wintry day .
Nae mair the wee wild flowers are seen Adown the woody vale , Nae mair we feel their balmy breath , Come floating on the gale ; Nor on the mossy mountain sides , Nae mair the lambkins play ; For they cower beneath the biting blast , The blast of a wintry day .
Nae mair upon the grassy bank The shepherd tunes his reed , But shuddering stands behind the bush , Wrapt in his rough - spun plaid . While round him winter wildly howls In terrible array ; And he shrinks to brave the biting blast , The blast of a wintry day .
Nae mair we hear the cushet's coo The waving woods amang ; Nae mair we hear the linnet's lay , Nor the milkmaid's simple sang ; Nae mair we meet the humming bee , Coming laden down the brae : For , oh ! it's a bitter , biting blast , The blast of a wintry day .
Nae mair the loving pair are seen Adown the hawthorn shade , The hawthorn now hath lost its charms , And the loving pair have fled ; For the howling blast o ' the angry north Has fill'd them with dismay ; And the hawthorn shakes its naked boughs To the blast of a wintry day .
Oh , give me back the summer days , The gaudy days of yore , That I may mix , with joysome glee , Mongst nature's harmless choir ; And let me muse adown the vale , And o'er the mountains stray ; For , oh ! it's a pure refreshing breeze , The breeze of a summer's day .
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Oh! Gin I were a Scented Flower
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4. |
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OH wha hasna heard 0’ the artist ca’ed Blain, For mony a portrait in Coldstream he’s taen; Be they young, be they auld, be they gentle or semple, He hurries them afi' without wrinkle or pimple.
And yet he’s aye true, and never beguiles, For the auld hae their frowns and the young has their smiles ; And some even think that he deals wi’ Auld Nicky, He speaks aye so cunning, so pithy, and tricky.
The auld wives they run wi’ braids i’ their hair, And the lasses wi’ breaches and breastknots are there, And the gentry on horseback wait their turn at the door, For he maks nae distinction ’tween wealthy and poor.
Ane seated before him he looks for a wee, Her beauty, her smiles, and her features to see, Sync he. cunningly shuts himsel’ up i’ the dark, Sae as name may disclose his magical wark.
An” what he does there nae body can tell, Gif he deals wi‘ the Devil, he kens best himsel’; But ae thing is true, and nae ane dare doubt it, That, for taking a likeness, he’s nae lang about it.
His wide-spreading fame a’ the country alarms, And the wabsters 0’ Hawick hae flown to their armsf‘ And a strong opposition they swear to maintain ’Gainst the king 0’ the artists, our ain Jamie Blain.
But, ye knights of the shuttle, I bid you beware, Lest our lang-headed callant for you lay a snare : He’ll harass you in front, an’ assail you behind, And ye’ll hae to gie up what ye canna defend.
Then success to you, Jamie, an’ lang may ye shine, And lang may the Muses around you entwine ; May joy and contentment be yours while on earth, And may peace seal your eyes in the moments of death.
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AULD Satan , when ye first gae through Your regions dark and awful , A sma ' bit favour I would crave , Gif ye but think it lawful .
Gie my respects to Souter Will , The first time ye forgather ; And tell him that I'm wae to think Him lost for a ’ thegither .
For ministers and others say He straught to you was taken ; ' Cause he the creed o ' Scotland's kirk Had mony a day forsaken .
Gif that be true , as it may be , Though faith I'm misbelieving , You ne'er met wi ' a slier coof , Since ye took to deceiving
. But use him well , and gif ye can , Oh gie ' im a bit promotion ; O ' a ' your buts and a ' your bens He ' shortly hae a notion .
But keep him aye beneath your thumb , And work him smooth and sweetly ; Or o'er your head he'll tak your trade , And dam your luck completely ,
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HERE’S a health to my cronies where’er they reside, Whether this side or that o’ yon big rowin’ tide ; I care na what country or kingdom they claim, Be they English or Irish to me it’s the same, Gif their hearts to a glass o’ gude whisky incline, I instantly class them as “Cronies o’ mine.”
Awa wi’ yon nabob purse-proud o’ his gear, Neither he nor his wealth hae charms for us here; Awa wi’ yon fop wi’ his clear headed cane, A bit trip through the warld, it’s use may explain; But welcome my cronies wherever ye be, To join in this gude reekin’ bumper wi’ me.
A fig for the wealth that this warld can gie, We naething brought here, sae we’ve naething to lea; The farmer wi’ ousen an’ acres galore, Has his crosses just now, an’ may sune count on more; Then come here, my cronies, let’s kick awa care, As lang’s we’ve a groat or a shilling to spare.
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7. |
I Met Four Chiels
02:45
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I MET FOUR CHIELS . I MET four chiels the ither night , I trow they were a daiz'd like sight , The Deil himsel had gotten a fright , Had he but been wi ' me , O.
I speer'd at them where they had been , Or what misconduct they had deen , Gif aught unyirthly they had seen , I bade them tell me free , O.
Ane o ' them was a souter gude , As e'er put rozet on a thread , I trow he was a jovial blade , But sair forefought was he , 0
Quo ' he , mysel ' and cronies three , Hae been this fortnight on the spree , An ' fint a plack now left hae we , And sair's our drouth to dree , O.
We ca'd at yonder cot down by , ' Tis said they keep it on the sly , But though our tongues were tinder dry , The deil a drap they'd gie , 0
O’d , when I heard their waefu ' tale , I drew frae out my black coat tail A flagon I had for mysel ' , O'Hieland usquebaugh , O.
We set us down upon the bank , Syne drew the cork , and blithely drank , Till down before ' s the souter sank , To try't upon his knee , O.
Faith , when I saw ' im before us lie , I thought we'd better hameward try , For fear some body might come bye We wouldna ' wish to see , O.
We raised him noo upon his pins , And pat a prop before his shins , Syne bade him t ' repent his sins , That pardoned he might be , 0 .
Hoo they gat hame I canna tell . I scarce ken hoo I wan mysel ' ; But noo I'm here an ' soun ' an ' hale , An ' fairly coured the spree , 0 .
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By my faith , sirs , this canna lang dee , I'll hae to gie o'er and repent ; I've been sax weeks an ' mair on the gee . Till my very internals are rent .
Now , Landlord , ye'll just bring ae bottle , Ae bottle an ' I'll be content ; And to - morrow I'll join the teetottle , And in sackcloth and ashes repent .
My finances hae now fa'en so low , That I scarce hae a shilling to spare ; And my dudds are but just so an ' so , A sma ' thing the warse o ' the wear .
My friens are a praying and preaching , And bidding me turn and grow wise ; And yet a ' their wonderful teaching Seems but for the sake o ' advice .
Gif I ask ane's assistance in speaking , Man , how he'll blether and puff ; But if twa three bright Geordies I'm seeking , He'll shortly gae aff i ' the huff .
I admit that my conduct's been bad , But what can a poor body do ; Its surely nae use being sad , When ane can be blythe when he's fou .
There's a set o ' bright callant's ca’ed bards , Wha hae cost me mony a crown ; And yet I aye reap my rewards , When wi ' ane o ' the craft I sit down .
For they are the lads wha can crack ' Bout the kirk , the State , and the nation ; And e'en though I say't , ' tis a fact , They can point out the way to Salvation .
Though they had nae a saxpence but ane , Without e'er a grumble they'd spend it ; And to ease the distress o ' a frien ' , The coat aff their back they would lend it .
Yet in duty I'm bound to admit , That their follies are mair than they should be ; But then , their bright flashes o’wit Mak their follies thought less o ' than would be .
Then farewell , ye Knights o ' Parnassus , For a time I your haunts måun forsake , To dwell amang dunces and asses , Wha scarce can a joke gie nor take .
Then , Landlord , ye'll bring me a bottle , And for ance I'll gie care a bit kick ; And to - morrow I'll join the teetottle , And till’t like a bur I will stick
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If ignorance and emptiness adorn the courts of light, the vaunting laird of _________ will shine a genius bright
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YE Scots , wha like to taste a drap O ' sterling usquebaugh , A sad misfortune's on us fa'en , An ' frae't we canna flee . A certain birkie i ’ the south , Wha ' tis I winna name , Has run awa to Lunnan town , An ' played's a bonny game . He tell's afore the Lunnan folks ' Bout a ' our drunken rants ; And syne he pictures forth to them Our lamentable wants .
He tells them a ' that we hae spent On this thing an ' the ither ; And syne wi ' scientific lair He adds them a ' thegither . And when he has them a ' summed up , Losh man , hoo sly he looks ; Syne claps them down on black an ' white , In what he ca's his books . That what we drink is a ' our ain , He darna ance dispute ; But gif we were to tell him that , He would us a ' confute .
He has sae mony cunnin ' words , So deep is read in Latin , That wi ' him we'd hae little chance , Unless we took the batton . Besides he has so mony folks To stuff his lugs wi ' haivers , Wha would auld Scotland's wizen nick , Were it to gain them favours . They've gi'en auld Scotland mony a stab , In ae time or anither ; But gif they gie her mony mair , They'll rip her a ' thegither ,
They change our laws an ' new anes mak , Ilk chiel to suit himsel ; And syne they'll nobly cock their crests , An say ' tis for our weal . And faith they would hae us believe That Englishmen we're turnin ' ; But ere I heard them tell me that , I'd rather see them burnin ' . They tryst awa auld Scotia's wealth To far famed Lunnan town , To sip their wine and sit at court , And compliment the Queen .
Besides , they gae the right to rule To a bit German carlie , And banished frae our Hielan glens The rightful heir Prince Charlie . My lucky , honest ' oman said , When she was in her teens , She fed the Prince , her lawful lord , Three days on curly greens . Now try your German gents wi ' that , And see hoo they would sneer ; They'd tell you that their German gabs Were made for better cheer .
But Scotland , lass , ye've lien owre lang , Get up an ' fa ' to wark ; And kilt your tartan petticoats , And draw your rusty dirk . And stamp your fit on English grun , And tell them wha ye are ; Syne bid them mind on Bannockburn , And famous Preston Muir . And gif ye dinna get redress , Tak vengence just an'ample ; Nick aff three score o ' English heads , And leave them for a sample .
Syne tack my word ye'll get your will , Ye shanna lang be stintit ; They'll gie you onything ye like , Gif ye but merely hint it . For weel they ken auld Scotland's might , Gif ance her temper's ruffled ; They ken her sons ' ll no be beat , They'll die afore their baffled . Oh ! gif her sons wad tak the field , I'd sune throw by my sadness ; I'd heave my bonnet i ' the air , And dance and sing wi ' gladness .
I'd sune throw aff this hamper'd coat , And , dress'd in Celtic order , Wi ' dirk and pistol and claymore , We'd march across the border . We'd cross the Tweed at Coldstream brig , By Flodden's heights we'd wander ; And drap a tear amang the heath , Where Jamie lost his grandeur.t For Lunnan neist we'd tak the road , Though lang it be an ' cheerless ; The piper's drone would help us on , Our rights would mak us fearless .
Ld , hoo the Lunnan louns would shake , When we our blades would bare ; Our tartan kilts and naked houghs Would mak them sweat wi ' fear . They'd sune frae out their amries bring Beef , bread , and cheese à routh ; Besides , they'd bring their nappy brown , To quench our Scottish drouth . We'd sune get back our mutchkin stoup , The wimplin ' worm an'a ' ; They'd gie's our ancient rights again , To get's to wear awa .
Auld Scotland then her head might kaive , An ' prance like ony stagie ; An ' roar an' sing an ' drink her fill , Syne play her wi ' her coggie . Then may her sons sune come to see Their critical position ; And may they sune some project try To better their condition .
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11. |
The Thistle
03:04
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THOUGH Scotia canna boast her palms , Her spicy shrubs , nor healing balms , Yet she can boast a plant that claims As much respect As a ' Arabia's costly gems Tied in a sack . Come forth , thou thistle , rear thy head , Great type of Freedom's charter'd blade ; Point to the spots where thou'st been fed On England's gallants ; Wha aften i ' the dust were laid By Scotia's callants . On hillock , height , or mountain drear , By rippling rill and river clear , When foreign foe e'er ventur'd near , To gaur us smart , Thou like a patriot wast there , To tak thy part . Full many a gallant loun has faen , Auld Scotia's honours to maintain , And that thy head might still remain Unscathed , unseered , To deck our noble father lan ' , Loved and revered . In days of yore , when I was free To rant and play upon the lea , The jags and scars I gat frae thee , There's few that kens ; Yet a ’ your fauts I noo forgie , Thou best ofriens . There may be some wha slight thy name , And turn thy greatness into game ; But were they here we would them tame , And gar them claw ; O'thy rough shanks we'd mak ’ a flame , And roast them a ' . Then lang may thy auld prickly pow Be seen to nod on ilka knowe , And may ye never need to bow To foreign chiels ; But should they come , let's make a vow To jag their heels .
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12. |
Heard ye e'er o' Donald Ben?
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Lines written on receiving an anonymous letter from a young lady
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Epitaph on a pedlar, celebrated for his swiftness
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WHAT deil's the matter wi ' you , Meg ? I think ye're cracket fairly , that ye would marry Bob , A puir bow't backet carlie . He well your grandfather might be , Think shame , ye glaiket hizzy ; Thae men will some day put you daft , You're head's already dizzy .
But , mither , what am I to do ? Am I to dee a wanter ? See , muckle Betty o'er the gate , Has buckled Charlie Hunter ; Besides , I've lien ower lang my lane , The very thought me rouses , I want to ken the loving joys The married life produces .
Weel , faith , gif that be your look out ,I fear ye're lanted sairly , You'll find a shabby share o ' heat About yon cankert carlie. But tak advice , an ' wait a wee , A paction ye may mak yet , Some honest sonsie farmer chiel Ye hae a chance to get yet .
Noo , mither , whisht , ye brawly ken , I'm thirty - five and mair , An ' fint a ane this mony a year , Hae come my price to speer . In trying to catch the farmer loun , I lost the smith and miller , I'll rue the day that e'er I thought To win the heart o siller .
But I'll the present chance embrace , As lang ' s a chance is offered , Neist week I'll grapple Robin's hand , As lang's that hand is proffered ; What care I though the neibours say , His jolly days are past , I'll strive to do the best I can , Let Robin do the rest .
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16. |
Young Johnnie o' the Birken Shaw
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’OD, Christy lass, can ye divine, What may the reason be, That ilka night that Robin comes, He seems sae fond 0’ me. He kisses me frae lug to lug, An’ ca’es me a’ his aim ; But there’s something that the laddy wants, The thing’s baith clear and plain.
II.
I aften hae made up my mind, To ask him what he meant ; But ne’er has had the courage yet, To gie ’im the bit hint. I try to do the best I can, And seem baith fond and fain; And yet there maun be something wrang, The thing’s baith clear and plain.
III.
Last Hallowe’en he came to me, A wee bit on the spree; But I trust this winna farder gang, Than just ’tween you and me. For stories are mischievous things, Which always end in pain;An’ gif he kent he would gang daft, The thing’s baith clear and plain.
IV.
That night he at my window knock’t, An“ bade me let him in; An’ I thought to keep him stanin’ out Would be a waefu’ sin.So I wi ' haste unbarred the door , An ' wow but he was fain ; There's a something i ' your head , quo ' I , The thing's baith clear and plain .
IV.
That night he at my window knock’t, An“ bade me let him in; An’ I thought to keep him stanin’ out Would be a waefu’ sin. So I wi’ haste unbarrcd the door, An’ wow but he was fain; There’s a something i’ your head, quo’ I, The thing’s baith clear and plain.
V.
' Had ye but seen hoo he rampaged, Sae cracky and sae crouse ; I thought nae but he would alarm The auld folks ’bout the house. An’ aye he drew me till his breast, An’ ca’ed me a’ his aim; But he had something in his e’e, The thing’s baith clear and plain.
VI.
Its only but a towmont past, At Martinmas last year, Sin’ he began wi’ tainty steps, Our hallan to draw near. An’ but to you an’ cousin Meg, I never taul’t to ane; So I trust ye’ll do the best ye can, My question to explain.
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18. |
The Coggie
04:00
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The norlin blast wi ' angry sough , Blaws throu the willow boggie , 0 ; But let it blaw , sae lang as we Hae plenty in our coggie , 0 . O ; The coggie is the thing to cheer The heart when press’d wi ' sorrrow , The present time is only ours , Let’s ne'er think on the morrow , 0 .
Were we to sit an ' fret an pine On what may yet befa's , O , I doubt they throu a needle's e'e , In twa three weeks micht draw us , O. a Some folks wha naething better ken , Misca ' puir chields for drinking , 0 ; But I mysel ' whiles toom my cog , To keep my mind frae thinking 0 .
The richest nabob i ' the land , Wha rides an ' drives sae voggie , 0 , Was ne'er sae happy's I hae been , When seated round my coggie , 0 . Let's toom our coggie ance or twice , An ' syne we a ' get happy , 0 ; We think nae mair on book or bills , Sae lang’s we hae the drappy , 0 .
The shepherd swain wha roams a ' day , O'er mountain , moor , an craggie , O , Forgets the wind , the frost , the rain , When seated round his coggie , 0 . The cotter labourin ' i ' the field , At e'en looks blyth an ' cheerie , 0 ; When seated round the cozy hearth , Wi ' coggie , brat , an ' dearie , 0 .
Awa wi ' wealth , awa wi ' kings , Awa wi ' pride sae dressy , 0 ; Bring Shakspear's plays an ' Burns ' lays , My coggie an ' my lassie , O. Gif fortune then wi ' that wou'd gie , A muckle hearted crony , 0 ; A ' pilfered gowd I would despise , An ' happy be as ony , 0
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fiffdimension Featherston, New Zealand
Outsider music from Aotearoa NZ and beyond, by Dave Edwards and collaborators (from 1856 to 2024).
Spans acoustic & electric noise, rock, folk, spoken word, postpunk, free jazz, gamelan, lo fi, electronica, & ethnomusicology.
fiffdimension recommends:
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First new release of 2023, psych-rock trio from Masterton, NZ, with Antony Milton and David Heath
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Nat da Hatt collaborated on https://fiffdimension.bandcamp.com/album/neon-train-landscapes and brought a funky psychedelic guitar groove to our sound - here's his solo masterpiece.
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