| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing over the sea to skye is this all? i think somewhere it says something about charlie... someone must know this and i'm dying to remember. |
Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Onward, the sailors cry Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to Skye Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar, Thunder clouds rend the air; Baffled our foe's stand on the shore Follow they will not dare 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 Many's the lad fought on that day Well the claymore could wield When the night came, silently lay Dead on Culloden's field CHORUS Burned are our homes, exile and death Scatter the loyal men Yet, e'er the sword cool in the sheath, Charlie will come again. CHORUS ----------------------------------------------------------------- Words by Sir Harold Boulton, Bart., 1884. Music by Annie MacLeod. Charles Edward Stewart, the Young Pretender, was routed by the Duke of Cumberland on Culloden Moor in 1745. Aided by a Jacobite heroine, Flora MacDonald, Bonnie Prince Charlie escaped to the island of Skye in the inner Hebrides. He was finally taken by a French vessel to Morlaix on the coast of Bretagne. The first half of the tune is said to be an old sea shanty; the other half is traditionally attributed to Miss MacLeod. |
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Come o'er the minch and come o'er the main, With a wind for their way and a corrie for their hame And you're dearly welcome to Skye again. Come along come along with your boatie and your song To me hi, bonny maidens me twa bonnie maids For the night is dark, and the redcoat is gone And you're dearly welcome to Skye again There is Flora me honey, so neat and so bonny And one that is tall and handsome withal Put one for my Queen and the other for my King, And you're dearly welcome to Skye again. There's a wind on the tree and a ship on the sea To me hi, bonnie maidens, me twa bonnie maids By the sea mullet's nest I will watch o'er the main, And you're dearly welcome to Skye again. -------------------------------------------------- This one's traditional. It's on a CD by the Flash Girls, who have such lovely voices. Flora MacDonald disguised Bonnie Prince Charlie as her maid and rowed with him in a small boat to Skye. He died drunk in France; she was captured and taken to London, where her beaty and brains were much admired, and where she was invited to all the best parties and became a huge social success.... |
all i could find was robert louis stevenson i don't know if he ever sang all of that- but it was totally that first verse. thank you thank you thank you when i was little i had all these confused images of birds and the 'sky' when he sang it. he was part of some crazy children's choir when he was a boy and remembered all of these songs and poems- but now they sort of jumble together in my head. |
Trot, trot to Boston Trot, trot to Lynn Watch out, little girl, that you don't fall in 'Cause Lynn, Lynn is the city of sin You'll never come out the way you went in Shout, shout to heaven Shout, shout to hell You'll never get out of the place you fell So cry, cry...stick in your eye That's what you'll get if you tell me a lie Let's play a game, let's play a game Pick up all the pieces and set it up again Let's play a game, let's play a game Try not to cheat, dear...it wouldn't be the same Pray, pray for mercy Pray, pray for rain You won't get to heaven till the end of your pain Pain, pain...your loss is my gain Revenge is the only way to wash it down the drain All the lies that you tell The depth of your well The banquets you hold and the people you told To Cleveland and back It was a sneaky attack Of a sensitive mind with a killer inside The body of a rake You made a big mistake So let's play a game, let's play a game Show me your hand and I'll show you the same Let's play a game, let's play a game Give me another chance to take it all away It's supposedly based on a "traditional" song. Does it ring any bells? |
on a whole i could hear tom waits doin' it, no? |
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I found this when I was looking through my old high school notebooks. I had scrawled this on the last page: Oh lovely appearance of death, No sight upon earth is so fair Not all the gay pageants that breathe Can with a dead body compare In solemn delight I survey The corpse when the spirit has fled In love with the beautiful clay And longing to lie in its stead Now, I know I didn't write this. It's either a poem or a song, because when I say the words I feel a tune behind the words (know what I mean?). I sense William Blake, maybe? Or not? Any ideas who could have written this and/or who sings it? |
OH, LOVELY APPEARANCE OF DEATH (George Whitefield) Oh, lovely appearance of death, What sight upon earth is so fair? Not all the gay pageants that breathe Can with a dead body compare. In solemn delight I survey A corpse when the spirit is fled In love with the beautiful clay, And longing to lie in its stead. Its languishing pain is at rest, Its aching and aching are o'er; The quiet immovable breast Is pained by affliction no more. The heart it no longer receives Of trouble and torturing pain; It ceases to flutter and beat, It never shall flutter again. From Our Singing Country, Lomax Note: Written ten years before the Reverend George Whitfield's death, to be sung at his own funeral. Recorded by Hally Wood http://media.mudcat.org/midi/LOVLYAPP.mid Now if only I could remember where I first heard it. |
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I still haven't mailed my essay yet. It's coming soon, though. |
a. I forgot to write some sort of essay. I think. Maybe I was smart and included one. b. I'll probab;y be gone by the time it arrives at my house, and it will sit in my mailbox all alone for six qweeks or so until I get back. *sigh* |
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Whatever. That was artisitic, I'll have you know--it reflects my own confused feelings about my childhood, and if you're thinking of the journal entry, that incident. I am going to Ireland. I am leaving in seven days. |
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I wanted to find a picture that would go with it, but all I found was a copy of a baby picture of mine, so I sent that instead. Oh, well. It's cute, though. I think so, anyway, if I may be so vain. |
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I don't think I sent any baby pictures. I have a good one of me reaching for a bottle of Guiness, though. I should have sent that one. |
(That's the sound of me whining for mail art.) |
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that's me crying because my part of the mail art isn't done yet. it keeps falling by that damn wayside. i'll try to finish this week. |
and here lovely appearance of death. |
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Come boat me o'er to Charlie; I'll gie John Ross anither bawbee To boat me o'er to Charlie. - Chorus: We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea, We'll o'er the water to Charlie; Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go, And live or die wi' Charlie. - I lo'e weel my Charlie's name, Tho' some there be abhor him: But O, to see auld Nick gaun hame, And Charlie's faes before him! We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea... I swear and vow by moon and stars, And sun that shines so early! If I had twenty thousand lives, I'd die as aft for Charlie. - We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea... Text by Robert Burns (1759-1796) |
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How can I make a midi file or something so you guys can hear the tune and help me identify it? |
I dunno about the midi stuff though. |
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