This section has songs of fishing, whaling, travelling home, the oil industry, fish gutting, fishermen's wives and their neighbours, and Bonny Prince Charlie.
There are many more. Below are lyrics for a few.
Captain Kydd - a villainous Scottish pirate
The Golden Vanity – a fun version of an ancient ballad,
Henry Martin – a noble Scots pirate,
Sir Patrick Spens - an ancient tragic ballad and
Windy Old Weather – a fun activity song about fishing.
This famous pirate was born in Greenock.
My name is Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed,
Oh my name is Captain Kidd as I sailed,
My name is Captain Kidd and God's laws I did forbid,
And most wickedly I did as I sailed.
My father taught me well
To shun the gates of hell,
But against him I rebelled as I sailed.
He shoved a bible in my hand
But I left it in the sand
And I pulled away from land, as I sailed.
I murdered William Moore
And I left him in his gore
Twenty leagues away from shore as I sailed.
And being crueler still, the gunner I did kill
All his precious blood did spill, as I sailed,
I was sick and nigh to death,
And I vowed at every breath,
Oh to walk in wisdom's path, as I sailed.
But my repentance lasted not,
My vows I soon forgot,
Oh damnation is my lot, as I sailed.
To the execution dock I must go, I must go,
Lay my head upon the block,
Laws no more I'll mock as I sail.
So take warning here and heed
To shun bad company
Or you'll wind up just like me, as I sailed.
THE GOLDEN VANITY
There was a little ship and she sailed upon the sea
Eep diddle dee, on the Lowland Sea
And the name of our ship was the Golden Vanity
Sailing on the Lowland Low – well
She sailed along on the top of the sea
Till she was overtaken by the pirate enemy
Up then spoke our little cabin boy
Saying ‘What will you give me if I will them destroy?’
‘Five hundred gold pieces and my daughter for your bride
If you will sink them, sink them in the tide’
He jumped in the sea and he swam like an eel
And he crept up on the pirate ship while they were at their meal
He had a little tool that was built for the use
And he bored nine holes in her hull all at once
Some were playing cards and some were playing dice
But the water it rushed in and it took them by surprise
The water rushed in, it was up to their necks
They ran upstairs and surrendered on the deck
‘Hurray’ said the crew of the Golden Vanity
And they gave the cabin boy an extra kipper for his tea
The older versions of this ballad are deadly serious, the cabin boy sinks the enemy but is cheated and drowned by his captain. The above version draws on Scottish and American sources. The story can be played out drama fashion.
There were three brothers in merry Scotland
In merry Scotland there were three
And they did cast lots which of them should turn robber, turn robber, turn robber
Who should turn robber upon the salt sea
The lot it did fall on young Henry Martin
The youngest of all the three
That he should turn robber upon the salt sea, the salt sea, the salt sea
For to maintain his two brothers and he
He had not been sailing a long winter’s night
And part of a short winter’s day
When he espied a stout lofty ship, lofty ship, lofty ship
Come a bibbing down on him straightway
‘Now, lower your topsail and bow down your mizzen
Bow yourself down unto me
Or I will give you a swift flowing ball, flowing ball, flowing ball
And cast your dear bodies down in the salt sea’
It’s broadside to broadside and at it they went
For fully two hours or three
Till Henry Martin gave to her the death shot, the death shot, the death shot
And straight to the bottom went she
Bad news, bad news, to old England came
Bad news to old London town
There is a rich vessel and she’s cast away, cast away, cast away
And all of her merry men drowned
This is an American version of an old Scottish song about a privateer called Captain Ward.
SIR PATRICK SPENS
The King sits in Dumfermline toon
Drinkin at the wine
And he has called for the finest skipper
In Fife and aa aroun
Up there spoke an eldern knight
Sat at the King's right knee
'Sir Patrick Spens is the finest sailor
That ever sailed the sea'
The King has written a lang letter
And signed it wi’s ain hand
And it was sent tae Sir Patrick Spens
Was walking on Tay strand
‘To Norowa, to Norowa
To Norowa ower the faem
The King's daughter o Norowa
Tis you maun bring her hame’
The first line that Sir Patrick read
A loud, loud laugh laughed he
The next line that Sir Patrick read
The saut tear blindit his e'e
‘Oh wha is this has done this deed
And tauld the King o me
That I maun gang tae Norowa
Across the winter sea?’
They hadn't been in Norowa
A week but barely three
When all the lords of Norowa
Got up and spak so free
‘These outland Scots waste our King's gold
And swallow our Queen's fee’
‘Oh weary faa the tongue that spoke
Sic a mortal lie’
‘Tak tent, take tent, ma guid men aa
Mak sure ye are weel forn
For come it wind or come it rain
Our gude ship sails the morn’
‘Alack, alack, my maister dear
I fear a deadly storm
For I saw the new moon late yestreen
Wi the auld moon in her airms’
They had not sailed a league, a league
A league but barely three
When the lift grew dark and the wind blew loud
And surly grew the sea
Oh laith, laith were oor guid Scots lords
Tae wet their cork-heeled shoon
But long e'er all the ploy was ower
They wet their hats aboon
Half ower, half ower tae Aberdower
And fifty fathom deep
There lies guid Sir Patrick Spens
With the Scots lords at his feet
The Tay Boat Song
Words by Englishman Harold Boulton
Tune traditional Gaelic
When I've done my work of day, And I row my boat away,
Doon the waters o' Loch Tay, As the evening light is fading,
And I look upon Ben Lawers, where the after glory glows,
And I think on two bright eyes, And the melting mouth below.
She's my beauteous nighean ruadh, She's my joy and sorrow too.
And although she is untrue, Well I cannot live without her,
For my heart's a boat in tow, And I'd give the world to know
Why she means to let me to, As I sing horee, horo.
Nighean ruadh your lovely hair, Has more glamour I declare
Than all the tresses rare, `Tween Killin and Aberfeldy.
Be they lint white, brown or gold, Be they blacker than the sloe,
They are worth no more to me, Than the melting flake o' snow.
Her eyes are like the gleam, O' the sunlight on the stream,
And the song the fairies sing, Seems like songs she sings at milking
But my heart is full of woe, For last night she bade me go
and the tears begin to flow, As I sing ho-ree, ho-ro.
WINDY OLD WEATHER
Traditional, rewritten by Ewan McVicar
Up jumped the herrin, the king o the sea
He shouted ‘Auld skipper, ye’ll never catch me’
Windy auld weather, stormy auld weather
When the wind blaws we’ll aa pull thegither
'Oh’ says the fisherman, 'less o yer lip
Don’t think that this time ye’ll gie me the slip’
‘Oh’ says the herrin, ‘will you take a bet?
Ye’ll never catch nothing wi that little net’
‘Right’ says the fisherman, ‘ah’ve got ye this time’
He threw out the net and he pulled on the line
But the herrin wis wily, he’d been there before
So he never got caught, and he’s now eighty four
The fisherman was talking to the herring to get him come closer, but it didn’t work. One can pull on the rope while singing this song – with a strong rope tied in a circle the end of the song can become a general tug-of-war.