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Robert Burns Ae Fond Kiss Ae Fond Kiss a poem from the pen of Robert Burns. Ae Fond Kiss Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae farewell, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy: Naething could resist my Nancy! But to see her was to love her Love but her and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly. Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka. joy and treasure. Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae farewell, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee. Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

Robert Burns: The Gowden Locks Of Anna.. ...or Yestreen I had a pint of wine. Written for Anna Park, a barmaid at the Globe Tavern in Dumfries with whom Burns had a passionate affair....and a daughter. Of all the love songs he wrote this is his own favourite. My 50th video on here too...seems fitting I go back to Burns. Yestreen I Had A Pint O' Wine 1. Yestreen I had a pint o' wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine The gowden locks of Anna. 2. The hungry Jew in wilderness Rejoicing o'er his manna Was naething to my hiney bliss Upon the lips of Anna. 3. Ye monarchs take the East and West Frae Indus to Savannah: Gie me within my straining grasp The melting form of Anna! 4. There I'll despise Imperial charms, An Empress or Sultana, While dying raptures in her arms I give and take wi' Anna! 5. Awa, thou flaunting God of Day! Awa, thou pale Diana! Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray, When I'm to meet my Anna! 6. Come, in thy raven plumage, Night (Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a') And bring an Angel-pen to write My transports with my Anna! Postscript 1. The Kirk an' State may join, and tell To do sic things I maunna: The Kirk an' State may gae to Hell, And I'll gae to my Anna. 2. She is the sunshine o' my e'e, To live but her I canna: Had I on earth but wishes three, The first should be my Anna.

Robert Burns - To A Mouse - Poem Robert Burns' To A Mouse presented by David Sibbald of www.robertburns.plus.com from his CD "The Greatest Poems in the World." set to photos of Scotland and edited by Peggy Edwards (AKA Peigi McCann). To A Mouse. On turning her up in her nest with the plough, November 1785. Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty Wi bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murdering pattle. I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth born companion An' fellow mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't. Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld. But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men ...

Ae Fond Kiss "Ae Fond Kiss," by Robert Burns, set to the original melody "Rory Dall's Port" as arranged by Gordon Binkerd. The recording is from my sophomore recital at UT-Brownsville, 2004. Text: Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy: But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met-or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

796. King Henry (Child 32) - (Traditional Scottish) This ballad (Norse in origin) is a version of the tale of the loathly lady, a common literary device used in medieval literature and a prominent motif in Celtic mythology. It is a kind of reversal of the "Beauty and the Beast story". The best known example is the story of Sir Gawain, part of the Arthurian legend, as related by Geoffrey Chaucer in "The Wife of Bath's Tale". It is also told in Child 31 ("The Marriage of Sir Gawain".) Arthur's life is saved by a hideous woman, who demands that one of Arthur's knights marry her as a reward; Gawain volunteers, and he is rewarded by the woman turning into a beauty. In this variation of the story, King Henry's castle is attacked by a hideous woman, who demands meat and drink, and finally the pleasures of his bed; Henry gives her all she demands, and in the morning she has turned into a beauty. Other ballads related to this are "Kempy Kay" (Child 33), a more modern version (early 1800s) where a bum does actually fall in love with a grotesque woman, "Kemp Owyne" (Child 34), where he is given magic gifts in return for kissing a hideous woman a certain number of times (usually 3) and the appropriately named "Allison Gross" (Child 35), where the protagonist meets an ugly woman who promises him magic gifts in return for kisses and turns him into a beast (temporarily) when he refuses. Though various tunes have been used, it is most often sung to the American tune "Bonaparte's Retreat," some examples being by Mike Seeger, Doc Watson and ...

Donald Mcgillavry Munk'd.wmv The name says it all. Now, how many scottish songs were munk'd at all? None, going once... and there is one! This one. I do not own this, silly wizard does. DIE! Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry, Donald comes down the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly, Here's to the king and Donald Macgillavry. Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald Macgillavry, Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly: Off wi'the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry. Donald's run o'er the hill but his tether, man, As he were wud, or stang'd wi' an ether, man; When he comes back, there's some will look merrily: Here's to King James and to Donald Macgillavry. Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Pack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly; Gie them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry. Donald has foughten wi' rief and roguery; Donald has dinner'd wi banes and beggary, Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry. Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly, Here's to King James and to Donald Macgillavry. Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness; Whigging and prigging and a'newfangleness, They maun be gane: he winna be baukit, man: He maun hae justice, or faith he'll tak it, man. Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry; Beat them, and ...

Silly Wizard: Donald McGillavry-O'Neill's Cavalry March Donald McGillavry-O'Neill's Cavalry March from the album "So Many Partings" by Silly Wizard Lyrics: Donald's gane up the hill hard and hungry, Donald comes down the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly, Here's to the king and Donald Macgillavry. Come like a weighbauk, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weighbauk, Donald Macgillavry, Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly: Off wi'the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry. Donald's run o'er the hill but his tether, man, As he were wud, or stang'd wi' an ether, man; When he comes back, there's some will look merrily: Here's to King James and Donald Macgillavry. Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, Pack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly; Gie them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry. Donald has foughten wi' rief and roguery; Donald has dinner'd wi banes and beggary, Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry. Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, Push about, in and out, thimble them cleverly, Here's to King James and Donald Macgillavry. Donald's the callan that brooks nae tangleness; Whigging and prigging and a'newfangleness, They maun be gane: he winna be baukit, man: He maun hae justice, or faith he'll tak it, man. Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry, Come like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry; Beat them, and bore them, and lingel them cleverly, Up wi' King James and Donald ...

Robert Burns - To A Mouse - poem To A Mouse by Robert Burns To A Mouse. On turning her up in her nest with the plough, November 1785. Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty Wi bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murdering pattle. I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth born companion An' fellow mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't. Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld. But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still thou are blest, compared wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But och! I backward cast my e'e ...

Missy the Cat - Chasing a Mouse My cat Missy chasing a mouse round the back yard. Luckily, for the mouse, she didn't manage to catch it this time. To a Mouse by Rabbie Burns Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty Wi bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murdering pattle. I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor, earth born companion An' fellow mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request; I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't. Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld. But Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still thou are blest, compared wi' me! The present only ...

Robert Burns: Ae Fond Kiss Ross and I again with Pete Clark on fiddle. One of the greatest love songs ever written. This is for Nancy or Agnes McLehose whom Burns met in Edinburgh: Clarinda to his Sylvander. A timeless classic. Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me; Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy But to see her was to love her; Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met-or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae fareweeli alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

Jon Stewart made MSNBC Keith Olbermann his little *** ...again Olbermann is so sanchezesque. Twitter-loser Olbermann responded first to Stewart slamming Olbermann at the restore sanity rally by criticizing Stewart...then 24 hours later did a 180 and started sucking up to Stewart and suspending his "worst person" segment indefinitely (lol his email must have overflowed with hate). Although the Rally to Restore Sanity definitely had a decidedly liberal tinge to it, Comedy Central's Jon Stewart did his level best to ensure his official message was that of "a pox on both your houses" to raised voices on the Right and Left in cable news media. Of course the thin-skinned host of MSNBC's "Countdown" won't have any of it, leaving liberal fans of both Stewart and Olbermann torn between the two. For his part, equally thin-skinned and mercurial Joe Klein sided with Stewart in a Swampland blog post at Time.com today: I think Jon Stewart's final plea for sanity at Saturday's rally was among, well, the sanest statements of the political year. Keith Olbermann didn't like it. Message to Keith, in language he should understand: You, sirrrr, have gotten a bit too full of yourself. You're not a charlatan like Glenn Beck, but you do go on...and on, in a crashingly inflated manner...with little of the irony and whimsy that used to make you fun to watch--the irony and whimsy instilled in both of us by our beloved high school English teacher, Arthur Naething. You've become mockable, which is tragic. Lighten up, dude! As the man used to say, Go forth and ...

Sedayne : M'Ginty's Meal-an-Ale : 3rd August 2010 Forgive the sound quality, which is due to the new Fuji internal wax-cylinder mechanism. So - M'Ginty's Meal-an-Ale, Written by George Bruce Thompson circa 1910, and set to the tune of Roxburgh Castle ("...adapted and ruined..."). It features in the Grieg & Duncan collection of Scottish Folk Song with several instances in the recorded archive of the late, great Davie Stewart (obit. 1972) whose idiosynctratic (but none-the-less definitive) renderings inspire this present rough recitation by way of a Lammastide birl. As a mere Northumbrian, and a Geordie to boot, the song filters down across the border country as a thing of occult and near-incomprehensible wonder, though I could supply a rough translation on request. In essense, however, it concerns an episode of comic misrule consequent upon a pig breaking loose from its sty and getting drunk on the toddy at a harvest supper. Now read on't... This is nae a sang o' love, nor yet a sang o' money, if there's naething very pitiful an' naething very funny; but there's Heelan' Scotch, an' Lowlan' Scotch an' Butter Scotch an' honey; if there's nane o' them for a' there's a mixtur o' the three; an there's nae a word o' beef-brose, sowans, sautie bannocks; nor o' pancakes and pess eggs for them wi' dainty stammacks. But it's all aboot a meal-an'-ale that happened at Balmannocks; M'Ginty's meal-an-ale far the pig gaed on the spree. They were howlin' in the kitchen like a caravan o' tinkies, an some wis playin' ping-pong an' tiddly ...

Robert Burns "To A Mouse" Poem animation Heres a virtual movie of the great Scottish poet Robert Burns reading his much loved and very philosophical poem "To A Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest, with the Plough". To A Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest, with the Plough"[1] is a Scots poem written by Robert Burns in 1785, and was included in the Kilmarnock volume. As the legend goes, Burns wrote the poem after, as the poem suggests, turning up the winter nest of a mouse on his farm. Another theory of the meaning of this poem is that the farmer turning over the nest of the mouse symbolizes the English (the farmer) oppressing the Scottish (the mouse. The poem denotes the narrator of the poem is ploughing his field when he cuts through a mouse nest. The poet shows regret and apologises to the mouse before he goes on a tangent which reveals the deeper meaning of the poem. The connotation is that even when you mean no harm and have pure intentions, you can destroy somebody else's well laid plans. Life is unpredictable, and while preparing for the unpredictable future we are not enjoying the present moment - which the mouse seems to be able to do. The narrator reminisces on "prospects drear," ie bad events that have happened in the past which in some ways prevent him from moving on. Furthermore, some say that he is very fearful of the future and that these two reasons do not allow him to enjoy the present. He is also hinting that we "humans" aren't very empathic or sympathetic towards animals like this mouse, but ...

To A Mouse by Robert Burns Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim'rous beastie, O, what panic's in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi' bickering brattle! I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, Wi' murd'ring pattle! I'm truly sorry Man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave 'S a sma' request: I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, An' never miss't! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It's silly wa's the win's are strewin! An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green! An' bleak December's winds ensuin, Baith snell an' keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' wast, An' weary Winter comin fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. That wee-bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble, But house or hald. To thole the Winter's sleety dribble, An' cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e'e, On prospects drear! An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear! (read by Dave Hart)

Joseph Haydn (1732-1809) - The waefu'heart Lorna Anderson soprano Haydn Trio Eisenstadt The waefu'heart ----------------------- Gin[1] living worth could win my heart You wou'd na speak in vain; But in the darksome grave it's laid, Ne'er, ne'er to rise again. My waefu' heart lies low wi' his, Whose heart was only mine; And oh! what a heart was that to lose But I maun no repine[2]. Yet ohi gin heav'n, in mercy, soon Would grant the boon[3] I crave, And take this life, now naething worth, Sin Jamie's in his grave. And see, his gentle spirit comes To shew me on my way, Surprised, nae doubt, I still am here, Sair wond'ring at my stay I come, I come, my Jamie dear, And oh! wi' what gude will! I follow wheresoe'er you lead, Ye canna lead to ill. She said, and soon a deadlie pale Her faded cheek possest; Her waefu' heart forgot to beat Her sorrows sunk to rest! [1]if; [2]must not complain; [3]favour

Jacobite piper plays Lochaber No More A clan cameron piper in full 17th century battle dress plays the ultimate Jacobite lament Lochaber No More, a haunting tune from the 17th century. This is the original melody, known to very few pipers but often played on harp and flute. Lochaber was the area where Charles Edward Stuart, better known as Bonnie Prince Charlie, landed and gathered the first clans to fight for his cause, thus starting the Jacobite Rebellion which culminated in defeat on Culloden Moor in 1746. The title says it all. These are the mournful words of the song: Farewell to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean, Where heartsome wi' thee.. I ha'e mony days been; For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more, We'll may be return to Lochaber no more. These tears that I shed, they are a' for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on weir, Tho' borne on rough seas to a far distant shore, Maybe to return to Lochaber no more. Though hurricanes rise, though rise ev'ry wind, No tempest can equal the storm in my mind; Though loudest of thunders, on louder waves roar, There's naething like leavin' my love on the shore. To leave thee behind me, my heart is sair pain'd; But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd; And beauty and love's the reward of the brave; And I maun deserve it before I can crave. Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead my excuse; Since honour commands me, how can I refuse? Without it, I ne'er can have merit for thee; And losing thy favour, I'd better not be. I gae then, my lass, to win honour and ...

Silly Wizard Live - Donald McGillavry I added the lyrics * as sung here* at the end of this description. This was filmed in Atlanta, Georgia on April 1, 1988. I really like the faster pacing of this live version versus the studio recording. Silly Wizard members in this clip: Andy M. Stewart: lead vocals, tenor banjo, whistle Phil Cunningham: accordion, piano, synthesizers, whistle, cittern, vocals John Cunningham: fiddle, vocals Gordon Jones: guitar, bodhran, vocals Martin Hadden: bass guitar, keyboards, guitar, vocals Donald come up the hill hard and hungry, Donalds come doon the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gouk's nest cleverly, [gouk = cuckoo] Here's to King James and to Donald McGillavry. Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald McGillavry, [weigh-bauk = scales] Come like a weigh-bauk, Donald McGillavry, Balance them fair, and balance them cleverly: Off wi' the counterfeit, Donald McGillavry. Donald come o'er the hill but his tether, man, As he were wud, or stang'd wi' an ether, man; [wud = mad][ stung by an adder] When he comes back, there's some will look merrily: Here's to King James and to Donald McGillavry. Come like a weaver, Donald McGillavry, Come like a weaver, Donald McGillavry, Push about, and in and out, thimble them cleverly Up wi King James and with Donald McGillavry Donald has foughten wi' rief and roguery; [rief = banditry] Donald has dinner'd wi banes and beggary, [banes = bones] Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the devil than Donald McGillavry. Come like a tailor, Donald ...