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Scotland's Grievances

from Poems & Lyrics by John Collie (1856) by John Collie (1834-1893)

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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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from Poems & Lyrics by John Collie (1856), released May 24, 2022
John Collie (1834-1893) - lyrics

Dave Edwards - acoustic guitar, bass, vocal

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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.

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