The Skye Boat Song

C Speed, bonnie boat, like a G bird on the wing,
C Onward! F the sailors G cry;
C Carry the lad that’s G born to be king
C Over the F sea to C Skye.

C Loud the winds howl, Dm loud the waves roar,
Am Thunderclaps rend the Dm air;
G C Baffled, our foes G stand by the shore,
C Follow they F will not C dare.

Chorus

Many’s the lad, fought in that day
Well the claymore did wield;
When the night came, silently lay
Dead on Culloden’s field.

Chorus

Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep,
Ocean’s a royal bed.
Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep
Watch by your weary head.

Chorus

Burned are their homes, exile and death
Scatter the loyal men;
Yet ere the sword cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again.

Lyrics: Sir Harold Boulton
Tune: Traditional. Collected by Anne Campbelle MacLeod (1870s)

June 24, 2020July 21, 2026

Early One Morning

C Early one morning, just F as the Dm sun was G rising
I C heard a maiden singing in the F vall G ey be C low
G ”Oh don’t de C ceive me, G Oh never C leave me,
C How could you G7 use, a G poor maiden C so?”

Remember the vows that you made to me truly
Remember how tenderly you nestled close to me
Gay is the garland, fresh are the roses
I’ve culled from the garden to bind over thee.

Here I now wander alone as I wonder
Why did you leave me to sigh and complain
I ask of the roses, why should I be forsaken,
Why must I here in sorrow remain?

Through yonder grove, by the spring that is running
There you and I have so merrily played,
Kissing and courting and gently sporting
Oh, my innocent heart you’ve betrayed.

How could you slight so a pretty girl who loves you
A pretty girl who loves you so dearly and warm?
Though love’s folly is surely but a fancy,
Still it should prove to me sweeter than your scorn.

Soon you will meet with another pretty maiden
Some pretty maiden, you’ll court her for a while,
Thus ever ranging, turning and changing
Always seeking for a girl that is new.

Thus sang the maiden, her sorrows bewailing
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below
“Oh don’t deceive me, Oh never leave me,
How could you use, a poor maiden so?”

Tune: Traditional
Lyrics: Traditional

June 20, 2020July 21, 2026

Aiken Drum

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Aiken Drum

G There C was a man lived F in the moon, lived C in the moon, lived G in the moon,
There C was a man lived F in the moon,
And his C name was G Aiken C Drum.

Chorus
F And G he C played upon a F ladle, a C ladle, a G ladle,
And he C played upon a F ladle,
and his C name was G Aiken C Drum.

And his hat was made of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese,
And his hat was made of good cream cheese,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

And his coat was made of good roast beef, of good roast beef, of good roast beef,
And his coat was made of good roast beef,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

And his buttons made of penny loaves, of penny loaves, of penny loaves,
And his buttons made of penny loaves,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

And his waistcoat was made of crust pies, of crust pies, of crust pies,
And his waistcoat was made of crust pies,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

And his breeches made of haggis bags, of haggis bags, of haggis bags,
And his breeches made of haggis bags,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

Lyrics: Anon.
Tune: Traditional Scottish

June 20, 2020July 21, 2026

The Derby Ram

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The Derby Ram

Am As C I went G down to Am Derby twas C on a G market Am day
I C spied the G biggest Am ram, sir, that G ever was fed on C hay.

Refrain

And, G it’s Am true, my lads, it’s G true, my lads, I E7 never was known to Am lie,
and if C you Am go G down to Am Derby, you’ll E7 see the same as Am I.

This ram he had four feet, sir, on four feet he did stand
And every time a foot went down it covered an acre of land.

This ram he had two horns, sir, they reached up to the moon,
A boy went up in January and he didn’t come down till June.

This ram, he had a tail, sir, it reached right down to hell,
And every time he waggled it, it rang the devil’s bell.

The man that killed this ram, sir, was drowned in his blood
And the little boy that held the bowl was washed away in the flood.

The little boys of Derby, sir, came beggin’ for his eyes
To kick about the streets, sir, for they were football sized.

And all the women of Derby, sir, came begging for his ears
To make ’em leather aprons to last them forty years.

Now if you don’t believe me, sir, or think I tell a lie
Just ask the folk of Derby, ‘cos they’re bigger liars than I.

Author: Dan