Huil

Hame tae Wick

How I walk in my grandfather’s footsteps
O’er the dreels he plooghed in Cannisby
Wi’ twa Clydesdales – white and dappled grey
He points them hame tae Wick
And the Slickly girls are all smiling
As they head doon for é Scarfskerry Fair
Late at nicht they hitch a ride in Sincy’s cairt
The garron in the shafts hefts tae Wick

Friday nights frae é bothy tae John O’Groats
‘etwixt é hedges on é broken-cobbled road
A pucklie nips an’ he wrestles for a kiss
The chance tae walk a Quinie hame tae Wick
There’s a Slickly girl wi petals in her hair
She puts her hand in his at the Scarfskerry Fair
They walk beneath the swollen, harvest Dunnet moon
Young lovers heading hame for é toon

Quines tak oot yer violins
And play the Stroma Jig
I’ve turned my back on (gold) dust and moil
I’m heading hame tae Wick
Boys upon yer fiddles
Play the fiery Morven Jig
I’m tacking north for Caithness
I’m heading hame tae Wick

Caithness flags surround the paircs he scythed
Frae Castletoun thro’ Bower all the way tae Lyth
Yon chiels that grew to men: shot the ploughman’s mare
New tractors in the fields don’t seem to care
The Slickly girls are all weeping
There’s a Baptist Church but no Scarfskerry Fair
We return frae foreign shores tae ploo their rigs
Dreels dancin’ doon tae Wick

In our grandfathers’ footsteps through the rollin’ mist
Dreelin’ destiny an’ fate upon é leaward rigs
Wi é ghosts o horses an’ ee rattlin’ harvest cairts
We all head hame
We all head hame tae Wick

 

Droving

Droving on the road again
Droving all alone
Droving for a penny a day
I’m gonna save them up and send them home

Home to you in Brora
Anns an achad bhuan
They’ll keep me droving ‘til the day I die
And then you’ll get a box – full of my bones

Droving south of Morven
Droving through the Shin
Droving down to the black coo mart
I met a parcel o rogues and a bottle of sin

Missing you in Brora
Anns an achad bhuan
Gonna keep on droving ‘til the day I die
And then you’ll get a box of pennies and of dust and bones

Droving through the bluebells
Droving through thistle and down
Droving into heaven on my limping pony
They’ll bury us together in Pictish ground

On the banks of the River Brora
Anns an achad bhuan
Twas always in us to keep on droving
Just to fill our boxes with dust and bones

 

NC500

From Clachnaharry and by Eilean Dubh
On the Brahan Seer Boulevard where I kissed you
Tae Achnasheen – wind in our hair
Lochcarron and Applecross without a care
Grand auld Torridon and Loch Maree
Where the ghosts of the clans call to you and me
Laide by Gairloch on Ol’ Desolation
Corrieshalloch calls
Tae the NC Angels

Loch Broom kisses Coigach’s shores
Knockan Elphin and to white Ledmore
Sweet Loch Assynt; McLeod’s Ardvreck
Where the roar of the engines sounds the best
O’er Kylesku tae Scourie began
Laxford ‘n’ Rhiconich where the clashaigs jig
Balnakeil and Durness; Aurora Eriboll’s
The Kyle of Tongue loyally enthrals us

Bettyhill and Strathy; Port Sgoire and Reay
Doon tae Scrabster on Sain’ Magnus’ Way
Bye, bye Thurso; Dunnet and Mey
Eee ol’ Quine’s huis; eee-green Gills Bay
Riding John O’Groats – tides rush by
smashin’ into Stroma’s sgriachan skies
Wick’s silver darlings -pistons scream
Take me doon tae Lybsyter and Latheron Wheel

 

Helmsdale to Brora

The Mannie o’er the Fleet
Our engines are a-hummin’ with a Dharma-bummin’ beat
Dancing Dornoch the wild North Sea
Living the dream cruising wild and free
Glide through Dingwall riding Am Blàr Dubh
Here’s the Beauly Firth – the 862
Back tae Clachnaharry – and our lovers’ fate
It’s the end of the road – who needs brakes?

Baby we can’t fake it
You know we’re gonna take it
Ride on NC500
Everybody dreams it
LIFE! – screams it
Ride on NC500

 

Trooper Rooney

By the river where he died
Neath Glasgow’s grey and starling skies
They laid him low
With Flanders poppies
Blood red as rubies
The military cross and stars
Pinned to his son’s breast
Torn and scarred
The piper played one last lament
Tae Trooper Rooney

O the rain is falling slow
Where brave men ghostly go
Frae Salerno tae Berlin
The Clyde aye flows
But there’s always one more war
With its never-healing sore
That his fighting son has wore
In the place of Trooper Rooney

Take this river and take this rain
Wash away the martyr’s pain
Let the piper play again
One last lament
Tae Trooper Rooney

Never gonna make it out here on your own