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| Celtic Radio Community > Minstrels Gallery > Songs Of War |
| Posted by: barddas 02-Oct-2003, 08:35 AM |
| I have heard a few versions of this song. The best in my opinion, is Steeleye Spans. Off the album Tonights the night. It is a live recording, the studio version is not as good, very experimental. Fighting for Strangers Fighting for Strangers cho: What makes you go away, fighting for strangers, When you could be save at home, free from all dangers? A recruiting sergeant came my way, To an inn nearby at the break of day. He said: "Young Johnny you're a fine young man, Do you want to march along behind a military band, With a scarlet coat, a big cocked hat And a muscet on your shoulder?" A shilling he took and he kissed the book, Oh Johnny, what will happen to ya? The recruiting sergeant marched away, From the inn nearby at the break of day. Johnny went too, with half a ring, He was off to be a soldier, he'd be fighting for the king, In a far off war, in a far off land, To face a foreign soldier. But how will he fare when there's lead in the air, Oh poor Johnny, what will happen to ya? The sun shone high on a barren land, As a thin red line took the military stand. Sling shot, chain shot, grape shot too, Swords and bayonets thrusting through, Poor Johnny fell but the day was won And the King is grateful to ya. With your soldier deeds done, we're sending you home, Oh poor Johnny, what have they done to ya? Oh, they said he was a hero and not to grieve Over two wooden legs and an empty sleeve. They carried him home and they sat him down With a military pension and a medal from the crown. You haven't an arm, you haven't a leg, The enemy nearly slew ya. You'll have to be put with a bowl to beg, Oh poor Johnny what have they done to ya? cho: (2x) Note: This is one of the most intense 19th century anti-war songs. It seems to be a combination of pieces of several other songs, the first two verses are reminiscent of the Irish recruiting songs like "Twa Recruiting Sergeants" or "Arthur McBride" with a short hint at the Broken Token theme ("with half a ring") while the second half of the last verse is snatched as a whole from "Johnny I Hardly Knew Ya". To the tune of "He Who Would Valiant Be". |
| Posted by: barddas 03-Oct-2003, 07:17 AM |
| Oh, she has such a grand voice. I have loved it since the first time I have heard it. It really shines on SS's live version of Cam ye O fer france! We are starting to arrange fighting for strangers... Very chilling piece. What is the name of the Christmas album? I have a few holiday songs that she has recorded.... would love to hear her on Highlander.... what a voice... But you already know that  |
| Posted by: barddas 04-Oct-2003, 06:02 PM |
| I picked up a UK compilation a few months back that has the Holly and Ivy. I love all around my hat too! We do that one, but from male perspective. Have yet to find a lovely female voice to accompany my gruff. LOL!!!! |
| Posted by: RavenWing 06-Oct-2003, 09:51 AM |
| I am sure you will find someone out there to sing with you. |
| Posted by: barddas 06-Oct-2003, 10:11 AM |
| Ye Jacobites by Name Barry Taylor Lyrics Ye Jacobites by name Give an ear, give an ear Ye Jacobites by name give an ear Ye Jacobites by name Your faults I will proclaim Your doctrines I must blame, You shall hear. What is right and what is wrong By the law, by the law What is right and what is wrong by the law What is right and what is wrong, Aa short sword and a long A weak arm and a strong For to draw. What makes heroic strife famed afar, famed afar? What makes heroic strife famed afar? What makes heroic strife, To whet the assassin's knife Or hunt a parent's life With bloody war. Then leave your schemes alone In the state, in the state Then leave your schemes alone in the state Then leave your schemes alone, Adore the rising sun And leave a man alone To his fate. Then leave your schemes alone, Adore the rising sun And leave a man alone to his fate... And leave a man alone to his fate. info The tune may be a version of Put in All in 'Pills'. It was printed as The Battle of Falkirk Garland in 1746 where it was noted as sung to the tune of Captain Kid. The tune was also used for Sam Hall, and Davy Louston. Unlike other tunes of the Jacobite era this is a condemnation of the Jacobite cause. |
| Posted by: brettzky42 08-Oct-2003, 10:42 PM |
| I'm a big fan of "Johnny We Hardly Knew Ye" |
| Posted by: maryellen 08-Nov-2003, 09:07 PM |
| On Star Trek: TNG, Colm Meaney sings a war song... I can't remember what it was called though. Anyone here know? |
| Posted by: barddas 14-Nov-2003, 09:37 AM |
| Here is a song that had been in the Highlander top 10 for some time now Donald Macgillavry. Footnote : A Jacobite song to commemorate the Battle of Culloden on 16th April 1745. The song might refer to either the 1715 or 1745 Jacobite Rising; or perhaps the name Donald MacGillavry might just be used to denote Highlanders loyal to the Stewart Cause. Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry, Donald comes down the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly, Here's to the king and Donald Mcgillavry. Come like a weighbauk, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weighbauk, Donald Macgillavry, Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly: Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry. Donald's run o'er the hill but his tether, man, As he were wud, or stang'd wi' an ether, man; When he comes back, there's some will look merrily; Here's to King James and Donald Macgillavry. Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Pack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly; Gie them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry. Donald has foughten wi' rief and roguery; Donald has dinner'd wi' banes and beggary, Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry. Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly, Here's to King James and Donald Macgillavry. Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness; Whigging and prigging and a' newfangleness, They maun be gane: he winna be baukit man: He maun hae justice, or faith he'll tak it, man. Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry; Beat them, and bore them, and lingel them cleverly, Up wi King James and Donald Macgillavry. Donald was mumpit wi' mirds and mockery; Donald was blinded wi' blads o' property; Arles ran high, but makings were naething, man, Lord, how Donald is flyting and fretting, man. Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry, Come like the devil, Donald Macgillavry; Skelp them and scaud them that proved sae unbritherly, Up wi' King James and Donald Macgillavry. |
| Posted by: CelticAingeal 17-Nov-2003, 01:06 PM |
....love this post, Barddas. It's like stepping back in time to read songs such as 'Ye Jacobites by Name'. It gives ye a great sense of what people were feeling and thinking at the time. Looking forward to reading more lyrics.  |
| Posted by: Richard Bercot 17-Nov-2003, 01:31 PM |
| I wish I would have read this Thread a while back. I had looking for the Lyrics for "Ye Jacobites by Name". I did find them even in the Celtic Language. Thanks Barddas, even though I was a day late and a dollar short. |
| Posted by: barddas 20-Jan-2004, 02:00 PM |
This is one of my FAVORITE songs! It is very difficult to play, and to sing( At the same time none the less  ) It jumps from 4/4 to 3/4 every other bar....A little hard to keep track of with the mouth full of words that this song has. Also, anyone wondering this is in Auld Scots/Lallans. This is one of the languages that, Catriona is helping to preserve. Cat, PLEASE correct me if I am wrong! I would hate to give out incorrect information. There are some translations/meanings to some of the words after the lyrics... History- [From Hogg's Jacobite Reliques, Trad. George I, being a protestant German king, was viewed with ridicule and hatred by the Jacobite rebels. This is a scurrilous attack upon him and his court. When George I imported his seraglio of impoverished gentlewomen from Germany, he provided the Jacobite songwriters with material for some of their most ribald verses. Madame Kilmansegge, Countess of Platen, is referred to exclusively as ``The Sow'' in the songs, while the King's favourite mistress, the lean and haggard Madame Schulemburg (afterwards named Duchess of Kendall) was given the name of ``The Goose''. She is the ``goosie'' referred to in this song. The ``blade'' is the Count Koningsmark. ``Bobbing John'' refers to John, Earl of Mar, who was at the time recruiting Highlanders for the Hanoverian cause. ``Geordie Whelps'' is, of course, George I himself. Lyrics Cam ye o'er frae France? Cam ye down by Lunnon? Saw ye Geordie Whelps and his bonny woman? Were ye at the place ca'd the Kittle Housie? Saw ye Geordie's grace riding on a goosie? Geordie he's a man there is little doubt o't; He's done a' he can, wha can do without it? Down there came a blade linkin' like my lordie; He wad drive a trade at the loom o' Geordie. Though the claith were bad, blythly may we niffer; Gin we get a wab, it makes little differ. We hae tint our plaid, bannet, belt and swordie, Ha's and mailins braid -- but we hae a Geordie! Jocky's gane to France and Montgomery's lady; There they'll learn to dance: Madam, are ye ready? They'll be back belyve belted, brisk and lordly; Brawly may they thrive to dance a jig wi' Geordie! Hey for Sandy Don! Hey for Cockolorum! Hey for Bobbing John and his Highland Quorum! Mony a sword and lance swings at Highland hurdie; How they'll skip and dance o'er the bum o' Geordie! (belyve=quickly; blade=a person of weak, soft constitution from rapid overgrowth; braid=broad; brawly=wall; claith=cloth; gane=gone; gin=if, whether; ha's and mailins=houses and farmlands; hurdie=buttock; kittle housie=brothel; linkin=tripping along; Lunnon=London; niffer=haggle or exchange; tint=lost; wab=web (or length) of cloth) [from: Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland] |
| Posted by: barddas 20-Jan-2004, 02:14 PM |
| This is a fun song to play! Everyone always seems to enjoy it! history- In 1580, at the pass of Glen Malure in Co. Wicklow, Ireland Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne overthrew the forces of the Crown under Lord Grey de Wilton. The victory is commemorated in this great song. Lift Mac Cahir Óg your face, brooding o'er the old disgrace That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, and drove you to the fern Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure Until he met at Glenmalure: Feach Mac Hugh O'Byrne! Chorus: Curse and swear, Lord Kildare! Feach will do what Feach will dare Now FitzWilliam, have a care! Fallen is your star, low! Up with halbert, out with sword! On we'll go, for, by the Lord, Feach Mac Hugh has given the word: "Follow me up to Carlow!" See the swords of Glen Imayle, flashing o'er the English Pale! See all the children of the Gael beneath O'Byrne's banners! Rooster of a fighting stock, would you let a Saxon cock Crow out upon an Irish rock? Fly up and teach him manners! Chorus From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore Och, great is Rory Óg O'More at sending loons to Hades! White is sick and Grey is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head! We'll send it over, dripping red, to Liza and her ladies! Chorus |
| Posted by: Lochran 19-Apr-2004, 09:36 AM |
| 2 Barddas: I can see you play those songs as well.  Could you please post here chords or tabs for Donald MacGillavry? If it's not bold to ask. Thank you in advance. |
| Posted by: barddas 19-Apr-2004, 10:00 AM | ||
I have it at home. Give me a day or so and I will get it! Cheers! |
| Posted by: Eamon 19-Apr-2004, 11:21 AM | ||
Great marching tune, Barddas. One of our favs when playing at one of the festivals. Eamon |
| Posted by: Aaediwen 19-Apr-2004, 05:25 PM |
Great thread  I too should have read it earlier. I'd like to hear some of the later ones myself. Even the ones I'm not familiar with sound great in my head as I read them. |
| Posted by: Lochran 26-Apr-2004, 01:55 PM |
| 2 Barddas: I will wait even if it takes a month. Especially that lately I found another song of Silly Wizard that I'd like to find tabs for. It's "The Blackbird". I'm sure a lot of people would like to see chords or tabs of those lovely songs here. Thanks again and Fare thee well. |
| Posted by: barddas 17-May-2004, 08:27 AM |
| Barrett's Privateers Oh, the year was 1778, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! A letter of marque come from the king, To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen, CHORUS: God damn them all! I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns-shed no tears Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's Privateers. Oh, Elcid Barrett cried the town, HOW I WISH I WAS . . . For twenty brave men all fishermen who would make for him the Antelope's crew (chorus) The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight, She'd a list to the port and and her sails in rags And the cook in scuppers with the staggers and the jags (chorus) On the King's birthday we put to sea, We were 91 days to Montego Bay Pumping like madmen all the way (chorus) On the 96th day we sailed again, When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight With our cracked four pounders we made to fight (chorus) The Yankee lay low down with gold, She was broad and fat and loose in the stays But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days (chorus) Then at length we stood two cables away, Our cracked four pounders made an awful din But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in (chorus) The Antelope shook and pitched on her side, Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs And the Maintruck carried off both me legs (chorus) So here I lay in my 23rd year, It's been 6 years since we sailed away And I just made Halifax yesterday (chorus) ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Written and recorded by Stan Rogers. © Fogarty's Cove Music |
| Posted by: barddas 17-May-2004, 08:31 AM |
| Here is an interesting site I found about how acurate the history is in Barrett's Privateer's http://www.chebucto.ns.ca/~jacktar/barretts.html |
| Posted by: gtrplr 17-May-2004, 09:48 AM |
| I like this one, which I first heard by the McKrells: Irish Soldier Laddie Author Unknown 'Twas a morning in July, I was walking to Tipperary When I heard a battle cry From the mountains over head As I looked up in the sky I saw an Irish soldier laddie He looked at me right fearlessly and said: Will ye stand in the van like a true Irish man, And go and fight the forces of the crown? Will ye march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field? For tonight we go to free old Wexford town! Said I to that soldier boy "Won't you take me to your captain T'would be my pride and joy For to march with you today. My young brother fell in Cork And my son at Innes Carthay!" Unto the noble captain I did say: Will ye stand in the van like a true Irish man, And go and fight the forces of the crown? Will ye march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field? For tonight we go to free old Wexford town! As we marched back from the field In the shadow of the evening With our banners flying low To the memory of our dead We returned unto our homes But without my soldier laddie Yet I never will forget those words he said: Will ye stand in the van like a true Irish man, And go and fight the forces of the crown? Will ye march with O'Neill to an Irish battle field? For tonight we go to free old Wexford town! |
| Posted by: Vanithee 19-May-2004, 11:15 PM |
| Hummm I have seen a bit of this befor but I dont quite remember where? It was a poem I read I believe. |
| Posted by: Keltic 22-May-2004, 09:19 PM | ||
Thanks for that link. The site has kept me busy for some time now with some really interesting information. |
| Posted by: barddas 24-May-2004, 06:27 AM | ||||
No problem what so ever, m'friend. Anytime I find something interesting, I post in hopes that someone else will find it interesting too!Cheers |
| Posted by: Roisin-Teagan 27-May-2004, 11:37 PM |
| Thanks Jason for the link. I'm exploring the back ground information...very interesting! |
| Posted by: SCShamrock 11-Jun-2004, 05:09 AM |
| I've only heard this song once live, and don't know who did it. Sounded like Sinead O'Connor, but I can't be sure. If someone knows please tell. By the way, Mary Black does a fairly good rendition as well. And apparently this was on the soundtrack of Gangs of New York. Paddy's Lamentation Unknown Well it's by the hush, me boys, and sure that's to hold your noise And listen to poor Paddy's sad narration I was by hunger pressed, and in poverty distressed So I took a thought I'd leave the Irish nation Chorus: Repeat between verses. Here's to you boys, now take my advice To America I'll have ye's not be going There is nothing here but war, where the murderin' cannons roar And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin Well I sold me ass and cow, my little pigs and sow My little plot of land I soon did part with And me sweetheart Bid McGee, I'm afraid I'll never see For I left her there that morning broken-hearted Well meself and a hundred more, to America sailed o'er Our fortunes to be made [sic] we were thinkin' When we got to Yankee land, they shoved a gun into our hands Saying "Paddy, you must go and fight for Lincoln" General Meagher to us he said, if you get shot or lose your head Every murdered soul of youse will get a pension Well meself I lost me leg, they gave me a wooden peg, And by God this is the truth to you I mention Well I think meself in luck, if I get fed on Indian buck And old Ireland is the country I delight in With the devil, I do say, it's curse Americay For I think I've had enough of your hard fightin' |
| Posted by: Keltic 11-Jun-2004, 07:43 AM |
| SCShamrock, Andy M. Stewart does a great version of this on his CD "By the Hush". The song is called "By the Hush" on this CD. |
| Posted by: barddas 22-Jun-2004, 11:30 AM |
| I found this on the net. I am working on this song for the next cd. Totally different arrangement though.... But check out the link photos... http://toosvanholstein.nl/greatwar/music/williemcbride.html The Green Fields of France, also known as No Man's Land. The song was written by Eric Bogle. After a visit to the war cemeteries in France in the early seventies Bogle turned a traditional Scottish lamento into a dramatic fictious conversation with Private William McBride. Maybe Bogle was inspired by an headstone he had seen, but problably the man and the name are equally fictious. Piet Chielens, coordinator of the In Flanders Fields War Museum in Ypres, Belgium, and organizer of yearly peace concerts in Flanders, once checked all 1,700,000 names that are registered with the Commanwealth War Commission. He found no less than ten Privates William McBride. Three of these William McBride's fell in 1916, two were members of the Northern Irish Regiment, the Royal Inniskilling Fusilliers, and died more or less in the same spot during the Battle of the Somme in 1916. One was 21, the other 19 years old. "The law of the greatest numbers does beat even the most poetical license", Chielens remarks. The 19 years old Pte William McBride is buried in Authuille British Cemetery, just south of Beaumont-Hamel, where the Inniskilling Fussilliers were deployed as part of the 29th Division. Click here to download Eric Bogle's original version of this song (MP3 Pro file, 2,9 Mb). And here is a live recording of this song sung a capella by June Tabor (MP3 Pro file, 2,3 Mb). These are the words: The Green Fields of France Well how do you do, Private William McBride Do you mind if I sit here down by your grave side? A rest for awhile in the warm summer sun, I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done. And I see by your gravestone that you were only 19 when you joined the glorious fallen in 1916. And I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean Or, William McBride, was it slow and obscene? CHORUS: Did they beat the drum slowly? did they sound the pipes lowly? Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down? Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus? Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'? And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind? In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined And though you died back in 1916 To that faithful heart are you always 19. Or are you just a stranger without even a name Forever enclosed behind some glass-pane In an old photograph torn and tattered and stained And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame? Well the sun it shines down on these green fields of France, The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance. The trenches are vanished now under the plough No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now. But here in this graveyard it is still No Man's Land And the countless white crosses in mute witness stand. To man's blind indifference to his fellow man And a whole generation that was butchered and downed. And I can't help but wonder now Willie McBride Do all those who lie here know why they died? Did you really believe them when they told you the cause? Did you really believe them that this war would end war? But the suffering, the sorrow, some the glory, the shame - The killing and dying - it was all done in vain. For Willie McBride, it's all happened again And again, and again, and again, and again. Did they beat the drum slowly? did they sound the pipe lowly? Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down? Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus? Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'? |
| Posted by: Madadh 22-Jun-2004, 11:35 AM |
| barddas, The green fields of France is a great song. John McDermott has an excellent rendition in his "The Danny Boy Collection". His CD has a few good songs of war |
| Posted by: Danann 09-Jul-2004, 02:03 PM |
| OK... he's not Irish, I don't think.. but Garth Brooks sings a song called Ireland on his Fresh Horses CD that is very moving. Here are the lyrics. I don't know the story behind it, but Garth Brooks wanted to sort of say thank you to Ireland for his reception there. "Ireland" They say mother earth is breathing With each wave that finds the shore Her soul rises in the evening For to open twilights door Her eyes are the stars in heaven Watching o'er us all the while And her heart it is in Ireland Deep within the Emerald Isle We are forty against hundreds In someone else's bloody war We know not why were fighting Or what we're dying for They will storm us in the morning When the sunlight turns to sky Death is waiting for its dance now Fate has sentenced us to die Ireland I am coming home I can see your rolling fields of green And fences made of stone I am reaching out won't you take my hand I'm coming home Ireland Oh the captain he lay bleeding I can hear him calling me These men are yours now for the leading Show them to their destiny As I look up all around me I see the ragged tired and torn I tell them to make ready 'Cause we're not waiting for the morn Ireland I am coming home I can see your rolling fields of green And fences made of stone I am reaching out won't you take my hand I'm coming home Ireland Now the fog is deep and heavy As we forge the dark and fear We can hear their horses breathing As in silence we draw near There are no words to be spoken Just a look to say good-bye I draw a breath and night is broken As I scream our battle cry Ireland I am coming home I can see your rolling fields of green And fences made of stone I am reaching out won't you take my hand I'm coming home Ireland Yes I am home Ireland We were forty against hundreds |
| Posted by: MacAibhistin 27-Aug-2004, 08:12 PM |
| Here's are great old war song that I believe originated in Ireland. An additional verse was added to it during the American Civil War. It is also the song that was sung on an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, as someone had asked about before. The Minstrel Boy Thomas Moore, 1779-1852 The minstrel boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you'll find him; His father's sword he hath girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him; "Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard, "Tho' all the world betrays thee, One sword, at least, thy right shall guard, One faithful harp shall praise thee!" The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's steel Could not bring that proud soul under; The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again, For he tore its chords asunder; And said "No chains shall sully thee, Thou soul of love and brav'ry! Thy songs were made for the pure and free They shall never sound in slavery! US Civil War verse The minstrel boy will return, we pray, When we hear the news we all will cheer it. The minstrel boy will return one day, Torn perhaps in body, not in spirit. Then may he play on his harp in peace, In a world such as Heaven has intended, For all the bitterness of man must cease, And every battle must be ended Enjoy! Rory MacA |
| Posted by: stoirmeil 07-Nov-2004, 07:17 PM |
| Here's one I love. Pity it never stops being relevant. Christmas in the Trenches (John McCutcheon) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool. Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school. To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here I fought for King and country I love dear. 'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung, The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung Our families back in England were toasting us that day Their brave and glorious lads so far away. I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound Says I, ``Now listen up, me boys!'' each soldier strained to hear As one young German voice sang out so clear. ``He's singing bloody well, you know!'' my partner says to me Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more As Christmas brought us respite from the war As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent ``God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen'' struck up some lads from Kent The next they sang was ``Stille Nacht.'' ``Tis `Silent Night','' says I And in two tongues one song filled up that sky ``There's someone coming toward us!'' the front line sentry cried All sights were fixed on one long figure trudging from their side His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shown on that plain so bright As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's Land With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home These sons and fathers far away from families of their own Young Sanders played his squeezebox and they had a violin This curious and unlikely band of men Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more With sad farewells we each prepared to settle back to war But the question haunted every heart that lived that wonderous night ``Whose family have I fixed within my sights?'' 'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost, so bitter hung The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell Each Christmas come since World War I, I've learned its lessons well That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame And on each end of the rifle we're the same -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
| Posted by: wolfcraig 25-Oct-2007, 03:06 AM |
| the field of Bannockburn 1314 Scottish Dawn © Ted Christopher1997 This is my land, I stand beside my brothers, Each man here to face this day of destiny. We answered The Bruce, not for greed and not for gain We fight only to be free For days I have walked across the moorland Leaving far behind the glen where I was born And a frightened crying woman carrying my child I trust in God that I will live to hold my son This day brings a Scottish dawn And freedom is the right of every man We give our all here today, so our children can say This is our land and we are Scotland’s sons Now we will face this hour together. We may fear, but we will never run We will pay the cost though many good friends will be lost Tomorrow, our flag will fly again On this Coxet Hill we gathered to the saltire When we are long gone, our sons of sons will say “They stood behind The Bruce not for greed and not for gain but on this Borestone field they died that we be free” so if we die here today, we die for Scotland’s sons. |
| Posted by: Robert Phoenix 25-Oct-2007, 08:11 PM |
| Alot of Celtic Bands in Wisconsin seem to play this one. Originally done by Battlefield band it is still one of my favorites. The Beaches of St. Valerie ) It was in 1940, the last days of Spring. We were sent to the Maginot line, A fortress in France, built to halt the advance, Of an army from a different time. But we were soon overrun, out-thought and outgunned. Pushed further back every day. But we never believed high command would just leave us. So we fought every step of the way 2) 'Til the 51st Highlanders found themselves on The banks of the Somme one more time. It still bore the scars of that war to end wars. The old soldier’s scars deep in their minds. But we didn’t stay long for the Panzers rolled on As the battle raged west t’wards the sea, Until on June the 10th when sapped of all strength We entered St. Valery Chorus: And all I recall is the last boat leavin’! My brother on board waving and calling to me And the Jocks stranded there wi’ his hands in the air On the beaches of St. Valery 3) So I huddled all night in a hammered old house As the shells and the bullets rained down ‘Til just before dawn our hopes were still strong For we moved to the beach from the town But the boat that had left on the day we arrived Was the last one that we’d ever see An’ with no ammo or food we had done all we could Se we surrendered at St. Valery Chorus: 4) When I returned at the end of the war, From the Stalag where I’d been confined, I read of the battles the allies had fought, Stalingrad, Alamein, and the Rhine. And with pride in their hearts people spoke of Dunkirk Where defeat had become victory But nobody mentioned that Highland Division. They’d never heard of St.Valery 5) No stories no statues for those that were killed. No honors for those who were gone. Just a deep sense of shame as though we were to blame, Though I knew in my heart we were not. So I’ve moved to a country I’ve come to call home But my homeland lies far o’er the sea. I will never return while my memory still burns On the beaches of St. Valery. |
| Posted by: Rindy 20-Jan-2008, 12:39 PM |
| Some of you have already seen this but for those of you who haven't here is a song that was written by Clann An Drummas founder Joe Kilna Mackenzie. "SGT MACKENZIE" by Joe Kilna Mackenzie The story of Sgt MacKenzie Charles Stuart MacKenzie was a Sergeant in the Seaforth Highlanders. He went to fight in France during World War One and was shot in the shoulder, the military sent him home to Scotland for treatment, where the surgeon wanted to amputate his arm. He immediately refused, stating that he had to get back to his men. During his time in hospital he was asked what it was like to kill 'the hun' (as the Germans where called then). He replied what a waste of a fine body of men. On the steps of the hospital, the last picture of him was taken in his uniform. This picture hung in his home above the fireplace. On his return to battle, he and his men were engaged in fixed bayonet combat. To the best of my knowledge, and taken from reports of the returning soldiers - one of his close friends fell, badly wounded. Charles stood his ground and fought until he was overcome and died from bayonet wounds. On that day, my Great Grandmother and my Grandmother where sitting at the fire when the picture fell from the wall. My Great Grandmother looked, and said to my Grandmother "oh, my bonnie Charlie's dead." Sure enough a few days passed, then the local policeman brought the news - that Sgt. Charles Stuart MacKenzie had been killed in action. This same picture now hangs above my fireplace. A few years back my wife Christine died of cancer, and in my grief I looked at his picture to ask what gave him the strength to go on. It was then, in my mind, that I saw him lying on the field and wondered what his final thoughts were. The words and music just appeared into my head. I believe the men and woman like yourself who are prepared to stand their ground for their family - for their friends - and for their country; deserve to be remembered, respected and honoured. Sgt. MacKenzie, is my very small tribute to them. After Sgt. Mackenzie was first released on our Tried and True CD Album in 2000, a copy of the song made it's way to the hands of Hollywood director, Randall Wallace and actor Mel Gibson. Immediately they both agreed that Sgt. MacKenzie should feature prominently in their upcoming movie "We Were Soldiers." The rest, as they say - is history ! Joe Kilna MacKenzie Scots Tongue Lay me doon in the caul caul groon Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun Lay me doon in the caul caul groon Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun When they come a wull staun ma groon Staun ma groon al nae be afraid Thoughts awe hame tak awa ma fear Sweat an bluid hide ma veil awe tears Ains a year say a prayer faur me Close yir een an remember me Nair mair shall a see the sun For a fell tae a Germans gun Lay me doon in the caul caul groon Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun Lay me doon in the caul caul groon Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun Whaur afore monie mair huv gaun English Translation Lay me down in the cold cold ground Where before many more have gone Lay me down in the cold cold ground Where before many more have gone When they come I will stand my ground Stand my ground I'll not be afraid Thoughts of home take away my fear Sweat and blood hide my veil of tears Once a year say a prayer for me Close your eyes and remember me Never more shall I see the sun For I fell to a Germans gun Lay me down in the cold cold ground Where before many more have gone Lay me down in the cold cold ground Where before many more have gone Where before many more have gone |
| Posted by: 0Ash0Tree0 09-Feb-2008, 05:40 PM |
| It's actually a poem, but you can sing it: The Pipes at Lucknow John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892) PIPES of the misty moorlands, Voice of the glens and hills; The droning of the torrents, The treble of the rills! Not the braes of bloom and heather, 5 Nor the mountains dark with rain, Nor maiden bower, nor border tower, Have heard your sweetest strain! Dear to the Lowland reaper, And plaided mountaineer,— 10 To the cottage and the castle The Scottish pipes and dear;— Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch O’er mountain, loch, and glade; But the sweetest of all music 15 The pipes at Lucknow played. Day by day the Indian tiger Louder yelled, and nearer crept; Round and round the jungle-serpent Near and nearer circles swept. 20 ‘Pray for rescue, wives and mothers,— Pray to-day!’ the soldier said; ‘To-morrow, death’s between us And the wrong and shame we dread.’ Oh, they listened, looked, and waited, 25 Till their hope became despair; And the sobs of low bewailing Filled the pauses of their prayer. Then up spake a Scottish maiden, With her ear unto the ground: 30 ‘Dinna ye hear it?—dinna ye hear it? The pipes o’ Havelock sound!’ Hushed the wounded man his groaning; Hushed the wife her little ones; Alone they heard the drum-roll 35 And the roar of Sepoy guns. But to sounds of home and childhood The Highland ear was true;— As her mother’s cradle-crooning The mountain pipes she knew. 40 Like the march of soundless music Through the vision of the seer, More of feeling than of hearing, Of the heart than of the ear, She knew the droning pibroch, 45 She knew the Campbell’s call: ‘Hark! hear ye no MacGregor’s, The grandest o’ them all!’ Oh, they listened, dumb and breathless, And they caught the sound at last; 50 Faint and far beyond the Goomtee Rose and fell the piper’s blast! Then a burst of wild thanksgiving Mingled woman’s voice and man’s; ‘God be praised!—the march of Havelock! 55 The piping of the clans!’ Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance, Sharp and shrill as swords at strife, Came the wild MacGregor’s clan-call, Stinging all the air to life. 60 But when the far-off dust-cloud To plaided legions grew, Full tenderly and blithesomely The pipes of rescue blew! Round the silver domes of Lucknow, 65 Moslem mosque and Pagan shrine, Breathed the air to Britons dearest, The air of Auld Lang Syne. O’er the cruel roll of war-drums Rose that sweet and homelike strain; 70 And the tartan clove the turban, As the Goomtee cleaves the plain. Dear to the corn-land reaper And plaided mountaineer,— To the cottage and the castle 75 The piper’s song is dear. Sweet sounds the Gaelic pibroch O’er mountain, glen, and glade; But the sweetest of all music The pipes at Lucknow played! 80 And, of course, Sinead O'Connor's The Foggy Dew (my favorite version- you can really hear the emotion in her voice) As down the glen one Easter morn To a city fair rode I, There armed lines of marching men In squadrons passed me by. No pipe did hum, no battle drum Did sound its loud tattoo But the Angelus' bells o'er the Liffey swells Rang out in the foggy dew. Right proudly high in Dublin town Hung they out a flag of war. 'Twas better to die 'neath an Irish sky Than at Suvla or Sud el Bar. And from the plains of Royal Meath Strong men came hurrying through; While Brittania's Huns with their long-range guns Sailed in through the foggy dew. The bravest fell, and the requiem bell Rang mournfully and clear For those who died that Easter-tide In the springing of the year. While the world did gaze with deep amaze At those fearless men but few Who bore the fight that freedom's light Might shine through the foggy dew. And back through the glen I rode again And my heart with grief was sore For I parted then with valiant men Whom I never shall see more But to and fro In my dreams I go And I kneel and pray for you For slavery fled Oh, glorious dead When you fell in the foggy dew |