Robert Tannahill (1774-1810)

The Braes o' Balquhidder by Robert Tannahill

Let us go, lassie, go
Tae the braes o' Balquhidder
Whar the blueberries grow
'Mang the bonnie Hielan' heather
Whar the deer and the rae
Lichtly bounding thegither
Sport the lang summer day
On the braes o' Balquhidder

I will twin thee a bow'r
By the clear silver fountain
And I'll cover it o'er
Wi' the flooers o' the mountain
I will range through the wilds
And the deep glens sae dreary
And return wi' their spoils
Tae the bow'r o' my dearie

Let us go, lassie, go
Tae the braes o' Balquhidder
Whar the blueberries grow
'Mang the bonnie Hielan' heather

When the rude wintry win'
Idly raves 'roun' oor dwellin'
And the roar o' the linn
On the nicht breeze is swellin'
So merrily we'll sing
As the storm rattles o'er us
'Til the dear shielin' ring
Wi' the licht liltin' chorus

Let us go, lassie, go
Tae the braes o' Balquhidder
Whar the blueberries grow
'Mang the bonnie Hielan' heather

Noo the summers in prime
Wi' the flooers richly bloomin'
Wi' the wild mountain thyme
A' the moorlan's perfumin'
Tae oor dear native scenes
Let us journey the gither
Whar glad innocence reigns
'Mang the braes o' Balquhidder

Let us go, lassie, go
Tae the braes o' Balquhidder
Whar the blueberries grow
'Mang the bonnie Hielan' heather
Whar the deer and the rae
Lichtly bounding thegither
Sport the lang summer day
On the braes o' Balquhidder 

Picture- Braes of Balquhidder overlooking Loch Voil  

By Savage Traveller

 https://www.traveling-savage.com/2017/03/22/picture-this-loch-voil-braes-balquhidder/

The Braes o' Balquhidder 

Robert Tannahill

1774-1810

The Braes o' Gleniffer

(A lament for a loved one, where landscape and seasons reflect the sense of loss for a left behind lover, as well as that of the hope of return)

Keen blaws the wind o'er the Braes o' Gleniffer.
The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw;
How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover
Amang the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw:
The wild flow'rs o' simmer were spread a' sae bonnie,
The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree:
But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie,
And now it is winter wi' nature and me.

Then ilk thing around us was blithesome and cheery,
Then ilk thing around us was bonny and braw;
Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary,
And naething is seen but the wide-spreading snaw.
The trees are a' bare, and the birds mute and dowie,
They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee,
And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie,—
'Tis winter wi' them, and 'tis Winter wi' me.

Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs alang the bleak mountain,
And shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae,
While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain,
That murmur'd sae sweet to my laddie and me.
'Tis no its loud roar on the wintry wind swellin',
'Tis no the cauld blast brings the tears i' my e'e,
For, O gin I saw hut my bonny Scotch callan,
The dark days o' winter were simmer to me!

Highland Laddie

By Robert Tannahill

Originally a Jacobite song with popular melody and chorus. As the Highlanders emigrated across the Atlantic to America and Canada it developed into a sea shanty with names, places and subject changed. Below is the Jacobite version followed by sea shanty version.

Highland Laddie - The Jacobite song

Where ha' ye been a' the day?
Bonnie laddie, Hielan' laddie
Saw ye him that' far awa'
Bonnie laddie, Hielan' laddie

On his head a bonnet blue
Bonnie laddie, Hielan' laddie
Tartan plaid and Hielan' trews
Bonnie laddie, Hielan' laddie

When he drew his gude braid-sword
Then he gave his royal word.
Frae the field he ne'er wad flee
Wi' his friends wad live or dee.

Geordie sits in Charlie's chair
But I think he'll no bide there.
Charlie yet shall mount the throne
Weel ye ken it is his own.T

Highland Laddie - The Sea Shanty

Was you ever in Quebec?
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,
Loading timber on the deck,
My bonny Highland laddie.

High-ho, and away she goes,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,
High-ho, and away she goes,
My bonny Highland laddie.

Was you ever in Callao
Where the girls are never slow?

Was you ever in Baltimore
Dancing on the sanded floor?

Was you ever in Mobile Bay,
Screwing cotton by the day?

Was you on the Brummalow,
Where Yankee boys are all the go?

The Wild Mountain Thyme


O the summer time has come
And the trees are sweetly blooming
And wild mountain thyme
Grows around the purple heather.
Will you go, lassie, go?

Chorus
And we'll all go together,
To pull wild mountain thyme,
All around the purple heather.
Will you go, lassie, go?

I will build my love a tower,
By yon clear crystal fountain,
And on it I will pile,
All the flowers of the mountain.
Will you go, lassie, go?

Chorus

I will range through the wilds
And the deep land so dreary
And return with the spoils
To the bower o' my dearie.
Will ye go lassie go ?

Chorus

If my true love she'll not come,
Then I'll surely find another,
To pull wild mountain thyme,
All around the purple heather.
Will you go, lassie, go?

Chorus

THE LAMENT OF WALLACE,

AFTER THE BATTLE OF FALKIRK.

Air--“Maids of Arrochar.”

___

THOU dark winding Carron once pleasing to see,

            To me thou can’st never give pleasure again,

My brave Caledonians lie low on the lee,

            And thy streams are deep-ting’d with the blood of the slain.                      

Ah! base-hearted treach’ry has doom’d our undoing.

            My poor bleeding country, what more can I do?

Ev’n valour looks pale o'er the red field of ruin,

            And freedom beholds her best warriors laid low.

 

Farewell, ye dear partners of peril! farewell!

            Tho’ buried ye lie in one wide bloody grave,

Your deeds shall ennoble the place where ye fell,

            And your names be enroll’d with the sons of the brave.

But I, a poor outcast, in exile must wander,

            Perhaps, like a traitor, ignobly must die!

On thy wrongs, O my country! indignant I ponder--

            Ah! woe to the hour when thy Wallace must fly!

GLOOMY WINTER'S NOW AWA.

1807

GLOOMY Winter's now awa,
Saft the westlan breezes blaw ;
Mang the birks o Stanely shaw
The mavis sings fu cheerie, O ;

Sweet the crawflower's early bell
Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell,
Blooming like thy bonnie sel,
My young, my artless dearie, O.

Come my lassie, let us stray
O'er Glenkilloch's sunny brae,
Blythely spend the gowden day,
Midst joys that never weary, O.

Tow'ring o'er the Newton wuds,
Lav'rocks fan the snaw white clouds,
Siller saughs, wi downy buds,
Adorn the banks sae briery, O.

Roun the sylvan fairy nooks,
Feath'ry breckans fringe the rocks,
Neath the brae the burnie jouks,
And ilka thing is cheerie, O.

Trees may bud, and birds may sing,
Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring,
Joy to me they canna bring

Unless wi' ye my dearie O

Robert Tannahill 1774-1810 Robert Tannahill was originally buried in an unmarked grave in Castlehead Cemetery, Canal Street, Paisley, Scotland. However, in 1866 a granite monument - funded by public subscriptions was erected. He was the son of a handloom weaver and was apprenticed to his father at the age of 12. A delicate child with a deformed right leg - he developed a skill for poetry at an early age. His father died when he was young and he was left to support his ailing mother. At the age of 17 - he paid homage to Robert Burns by embarging on a walking tour of Ayrshire - though he probably did not meet Burns. He then went on to found the Paisley Burns Club - which is still active today. From 1805 onwards Tannahill's work began to appear in newspapers and journals and in 1807 he published a collection of poems and songs which sold out. However, some of the poems were attacked by critics and when a revised edition was declined by a publisher Tannahill committed suicide by drowning himself in a culvert near Paisley. As he had taken his own life, he was buried in an unmarked grave. In 1883 a statue of Tannahill, made by David Watson Stevenson, was erected in Paisley Abbey. Fellow Renfrewshire poet Douglas Dunn paid tribute to him in his poem Tannahill which appeared in his 1981 collection St Kilda's Parliament. Written in a Burns stanza - it contains the lines: 'Composing verses at your bench/Lines woven inch by linen inch'. Today Tannahill is best remembered for landscape poems such as Gleniffer Braes. He is held in high regard and often favourably compared to his mentor Burns.

Keen blaws the wind o'er the Braes o' Gleniffer. The auld castle's turrets are cover'd wi' snaw; How chang'd frae the time when I met wi' my lover Amang the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw: The wild flow'rs o' simmer were spread a' sae bonnie, The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree: But far to the camp they hae march'd my dear Johnnie, And now it is winter wi' nature and me. Taken from Poets Graves https://www.poetsgraves.co.uk/tannahill.html <script async src="https://pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js?client=ca-pub-2938398207205693"      crossorigin="anonymous"></script>