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Traditional Celtic Music, Scottish Songs & Border Ballads
Scots' musician, songwriter, & balladeer.
Hazel Whyte
Scots' Music
Bonnie Lass O'
A simple brief
thought on Scottish

Were the outdated
union not of some very
high value to England and
the English, why would
they fight so to try to
keep it?

There are only so many
slices to a pie, for one to
have more, another must
have less.

Lastly - to those Scottish
"Loyalists" - to whom are
you loyal?
Scots royalty died in the
1700's so it can be no
Scots crown - And
certainly not it appears to
those who came before,
that bled for Scotland
and her freedom !  
In the words
of Burns, as he
wrote from the heart.

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie.

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power,
Chains and slaverie.

Wha would be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a Slave?
Let him turn and flie:

Wha for Scotland's king and law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',
Let him follow me.

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your Sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud Usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us Do - or Die!!

Choose your destiny.
There once was a troop of Irish dragoons
Come marching down thru Fyfie, O.
And the captain fell in love with a very bonnie lass
And the name she was called was pretty Peggy-o.

There's many a bonnie lass in the glen of Auchterless
There's many a bonnie lass in Garioch-o
There's many a bonnie Jean in the streets of Aberdeen
But the flower of them all lives in Fyvie, O.

O come down the stairs, Pretty Peggy, my dear
Come down the stairs, Pretty Peggy-o
Come down the stairs, comb back your yellow hair
Bid a long farewell to your mammy-o.

It's braw, aye it's braw, a captain's lady for to be
And it's braw to be a captain's lady-o.
It's braw to ride around and to follow the camp,
And to ride when your captain he is ready-o.

O I'll give you ribbons, love, and I'll give you rings,
I'll give you a necklace of amber-o,
I'll give you a silken petticoat with flounces to the knee,
If you'll convey me doon to your chamber-o.

What would your mother think if she heard the guineas
And saw the haut-boys marching all before you O?
O little would she think gin she heard the guineas clink,
If I followed a soldier laddie-o.

I never did intend a soldier's lady for to be,
A soldier shall never enjoy me-o.
I never did intend to gae tae a foreign land
And I will never marry a soldier-o.

I'll drink nae more o your claret wine,
I'll drink nae more o your glasses-o.
Tomorrow is the day when we maun ride away,
So farewell tae your Fyvie lasses-o.

The colonel he cried, mount, boys, mount,boys, mount.
The captain, he cried, tarry-o.
O tarry yet a while, just another day or twa,
Til I see if the bonnie lass will marry-o.

Twas in the early morning, when we marched awa,
And O but the captain he was sorry-o.
The drums they did beat a merry brasselgeicht,
And the band played the bonnie lass of Fyvie, O.

Long ere we came to the glen of Auchterlass,
We had our captain to carry-o.
And long ere we won into the streets of Aberdeen
We had our captain to bury-o.

Green grow the birks on bonnie Ethanside,
And low lie the lowlands of Fyvie, O.
The captain's name was Ned and he died for a maid,
He died for the bonny lass of Fyvie, O.
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