Текст и слова песни Misc Folk – Freedom Come All ye
Roch the wind in the clear day's dawin'
Blaws the cloods heelster-gowdy o'er the bay,
But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin'
Through the great glen o' the warld the day.
It's a thocht that will gar oor rottans,
A' they rogues that gan gallus, fresh and gay,
Tak' the road and seek ither lawins
For their ill ploys tae sport an' play.
Nae mair will oor bonnie callants
March tae war when oor hoodies crowsely craw,
Nor wee weans frae pitheid an' clachan
Watch the ships sailin' doon the Broomielaw.
Broken faim'lies in lands we've hairriet
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mair, nae mair
Black an' white, ane till ither mairriet
Mak' the vile barracks o' the maisters bare.
Sae come a' ye at hame wi' freedom
Never heed what oor hoodies croak for doom,
In your hoose a' the bairns o' Adam
Will find breid, barley bree an' painted room.
When MacLean meets wi' his friends in Springburn,
A' they roses an' geans will turn tae bloom,
An' a black lad frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o' the burghers doon.
It was written by Dr. Hamish Henderson of Edinburgh University's
School of Scottish Studies, and is sung to an old pipe tune The
Bloody Fields of Flanders.
It was written in response to MacMillan's speech about the winds
of change blowing through Africa, and has been called (by no less
a singer than Archie Fisher) the song of the century. I agree.
Blaws the cloods heelster-gowdy o'er the bay,
But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin'
Through the great glen o' the warld the day.
It's a thocht that will gar oor rottans,
A' they rogues that gan gallus, fresh and gay,
Tak' the road and seek ither lawins
For their ill ploys tae sport an' play.
Nae mair will oor bonnie callants
March tae war when oor hoodies crowsely craw,
Nor wee weans frae pitheid an' clachan
Watch the ships sailin' doon the Broomielaw.
Broken faim'lies in lands we've hairriet
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mair, nae mair
Black an' white, ane till ither mairriet
Mak' the vile barracks o' the maisters bare.
Sae come a' ye at hame wi' freedom
Never heed what oor hoodies croak for doom,
In your hoose a' the bairns o' Adam
Will find breid, barley bree an' painted room.
When MacLean meets wi' his friends in Springburn,
A' they roses an' geans will turn tae bloom,
An' a black lad frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o' the burghers doon.
It was written by Dr. Hamish Henderson of Edinburgh University's
School of Scottish Studies, and is sung to an old pipe tune The
Bloody Fields of Flanders.
It was written in response to MacMillan's speech about the winds
of change blowing through Africa, and has been called (by no less
a singer than Archie Fisher) the song of the century. I agree.
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