A SASSENACH'S SOLILOQUY ON SCOTTISH SKIRTS
Click on Image to hear pipe tune, 478 Kb mp3
Image and words from: http://www.lockstockandbarrel.org/Poems/poem005.html
Music from: http://www.caber-records.com/audio.php
John Bull stands and gapes and stares
At Jocks in frocks adorned with squares
'Be-shrew me now' I heard him say
'Canst be true-are Gordons gay?'
He pondered on the wintry wind
On Scottish botties most unkind
And mused upon the wintry darts
Refrigerating private parts
His tortured mind with thoughts did press
Upon the Caledonian dress
Long did his noble spirit muse
'Why the kilt, why not the trews?'
O gentle reader do not lack
A warning from the Sassenach
To deride the kilt doth much displease
The owners of the bony knees
To laugh at haggis is fair game
But tartan kilts are not the same
My final verse, may it advise
To mock the Jock is most unwise
On Flanders Field in World War I
With bulging eyes the startled Hun
Saw screaming through the shot and shell
The feared and fearless GIRLS FROM HELL
Above image and words from: http://www.lockstockandbarrel.org/Poems/poem005.html
The Garb of Old Gaul
words by Lieutenant-General Sir Henry Erskine, Bart.
Click on Image to hear bagpipes, 916 KB mp3.
Music: http://members.tripod.com/House_of_Malt/Sounds/March.mp3
Image: http://www.electricscotland.com/history/scotreg/bwatch/bwatch.jpg
Words: http://www.electricscotland.com/history/scotreg/bwatch/bw11.htm
In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome.
From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come;
Where the Romans endeavored our country to gain,
But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain.
Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws,
That, like our ancestors of old, we stand by freedom's cause;
We'll bravely fight, like heroes bright, for honor and applause,
And defy the French, with all their arts, to alter our laws.
No effeminate customs our sinews embrace,
No luxurious tables enervate our race;
Our loud-sounding pipe bears the true martial strain,
So do we the old Scottish valor retain.
As a storm in the ocean when Boreas blows,
So are we enraged when we rush on our foes;
We sons of the mountains, tremendous as rocks,
Dash the force of our foes with our thundering strokes.
We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale,
Are swift as the roe which the hound doth assail,
As the full moon in autumn our shields do appear,
Minerva would dread to encounter our spear.
Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old France,
In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance;
But when our claymores they saw us produce,
Their courage did fail, and they sued for a truce.
In our realm may the fury of faction long cease,
May our councils be wise and our commerce increase,
And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find,
That our friends still prove true and our beauties prove kind.
Then we'll defend our liberty, our country, and our laws,
And teach our late posterity to fight in freedom's cause,
That they like our ancestors bold, for honor and applause,
May defy the French, with all their arts, to alter our laws.
Image: http://www.electricscotland.com/history/scotreg/bwatch/bwatch.jpg
Words: http://www.electricscotland.com/history/scotreg/bwatch/bw11.htm