Dodie's Dream World - Complete Chaos! xxx Celts-Scotland
DODIES DREAM WORLD - COMPLETE FANTASY? SOMETIMES
THE LOST TREASURE
A lovely poem which mentions the River Clyde, by Elizabeth Fleming
The moon has lost her looking-glass
Oh, what's my Lady Moon to do ?
It's not in all the hills of grass
Or all the moors of heather ;
Pray stop, you idle folk who pass,
And help us in our searching too,
And country lad and country lass,
Come, look for it together.
She's seeking in the river Clyde,
My Lady Moon in yellow gown,
And fairy boats are on the tide,
And fairy nets are sweeping ;
And every misty mountainside
Goes twinkle, twinkle up and down,
Where goblin lanterns far and wide
Their fiery watch are keeping.
Perhaps one day her glass will lie
A shattered bauble on the sand,
And foolish folk who wander by
Will make the pieces tinkle ;
But wiser people such as I
Will watch awhile and understand
Why all the boats are high and dry
And lights no longer twinkle...
DODIES DREAM WORLD - COMPLETE FANTASY? SOMETIMES
A Song for the Trawlers
By Alfred Noyes
Dark, dark lay the drifters against the red West
As they shot their long meshes of steel overside;
And the oily green waters were rocking to rest
When Kilmeny went out, at the turn of the tide;
And nobody knew where the lassie would roam,
For the magic that called her was tapping unseen,
It was wellnigh a week ere Kilmeny came home,
And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
She'd a gun at her bow that was Newcastle's best
And a gun at the stern that was fresh from the Clyde,
And a secret her skipper had never confessed,
Not even at dawn, to his newly-wed bride;
And a wireless that whispered above, like a gnome,
The laughter of London, the boasts of Berlin . . . .
O, it may have been mermaids that lured her from home;
But nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
It was dark when Kilmeny came home from her quest
With her bridge dabbled red where her skipper had died;
But she moved like a bride with a rose at her breast,
And Well done, Kilmeny! the Admiral cried.
Now, at sixty four fathom a conger may come
And nose at the bones of a drowned submarine;
But - late in the evening Kilmeny came home,
And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
There's a wandering shadow that stares at the foam,
Though they sing all the night to old England, their queen.
Late, late in the evening, Kilmeny came home,
And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
WORLD WAR I at
BRITISH FISHING VESSELS LOST AT SEA DUE TO ENEMY
1917, 1918 in date order
Scotlands William Kidd, still holds secret long after his death in 1701...
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggety beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us
Another Fantastic Sunken Pirate Ship-
-Discovered in the Dominican Republic
Just last week we
wrote an article giving everyone an update on the wreck of the French
Gun Ship found in Samana Bay, called Le Scipion and how it's rescue is
progressing, yet without the ink being barely dry, another amazing and
exciting discovery has been announced. An underwater archeology team
from the U.S has stated that they have discovered the shattered remains
of a true sunken pirate ship, found just mere meters off the coast of
the Dominican Republic on a tiny island called Catalina! The pirate ship
also having been captained by the ever so notorious buccaneer William
Kidd. This is the stuff Disney movies are made from! The sunken wreckage is believed to be that of the Quedagh Merchant, a ship abandoned by the Scottish Pirate in 1699.
Thanks to one of therealdr.com's roving reporters in the bush,
Mr Dave Vande Vyvere who arrived in the Dominican Republic on Friday to
give us this fantastic update about the new pirate ship discovery. Dave
being interested in all aspects of archeological digs and discoveries
(he's currently residing in/with an ancient relic in Puerto Plata) was
only too happy to share this new found information about one of the most
infamous pirates in history and his sunken ship. Thanks Dave.
One of the teachers from Indiana University
was the first to set sight on the wreck. The cannons and barnacled
anchors were just under three meters of crystal clear waters off the
coast of Catalina Island (an already popular and famous dive spot in the
Dominican Republic). Charles Beeker the teacher said "When I first
looked down and saw it, I couldn't believe everybody missed it for 300
years!" he continued "I've been on thousands of wrecks and this is one
of the first where it's been untouched by looters."
The wreck of the Quedagh Merchant
has been sought by bounty and treasure hunters for years around the
Dominican Republic's coastlines. Even a group with a permit from the
Dominican government failed to find the wreck. Historians are of the
opinion that the treasure inside the ship was already scavanged and
burned shortly after Captain William Kidd abandoned the vessel.
Now the team from Indiana University
have a license from the Dominican government to study the wreckage and
eventually convert the sea floor into an underwater preserve, where
divers and snorkellers alike can investigate first hand the amazing
cannons and anchors which have been embedded for hundreds of years under
Caribbean sand. Mr Charles Beeker continued to say "We believe this is
a living musuem." Beeker has previously assisted the Dominican
government open underwater parks that feature jar fragments, cannons and
other items all recovered from 18th century shipwrecks. He said that
the treasure itself is the actual wreck of the priate ship.
The scattered remains of the pirate
ship were first spotted by a local fisherman, who reported his discovery
to the local Dominican authorities said Mr Francis Soto who is the
director of the National Office of Subquatic History and Culture. The
team from Indiana University then examined the wreck at the invitation
from the Dominican government.
Every body is waiting with baited
breath for more information to literally surface from this underwater
site as in all likeliness this particular discovery will reveal key
information about the history of piracy in the Caribbean and give us all
more information about the elusive Captain William Kidd. There has in
the past been extensive written documentation about pirates and the acts
of piracy in the Caribbean and this is now a rare opportunity to put
actual facts to the truth.
One historian Mr Richard Zacks wrote a book about William Kidd called The Pirate Hunter:The True Story of Captain Kidd.
In his books he says that the Scottish Pirate captured the 454-tonne
Moorish ship in the Indian Ocean but then left it in the Caribbean in
1699 as he travelled back to America to try and clear his name of
criminal charges. Unfortunately for Kidd he failed to
persuade the authorities otherwise and was shipped off to London,
England to stand trial. Afterwards he was dipped in tar and then hanged
in 1701. His body was held in a gibbet (like a big birdcage)for 2
years on the River Thames as a warning to others against the evils of
What else the discovery of the
sunken Quedagh Merchant will tell us only she knows. She has quietly
lain in her sandy grave for 300 years now keeping her secrets silent,
but as her belly is opened up and the truth begins to spill out what an
amazing story to keep us all enthralled for years to come.
A FEW LITTLE POEM'S BY THE WONDERFUL
THE PHILOSOPHER PICTURE BY C SCOTT AT
DINNA leuk for muckle
An ye'll no be disappintit,
Dinna think ye're somebody Because ye're dooble-jintit;
Jouk an lat the jaw gae by, Tak a'thing as it comes,
An niver wyte the grozer buss For no bein fou o plums. A' your gear's aneth your cap?
See ye haud a grup o't!
Gin your cogie's cowpit
Ye yet mey save a sup o't;
Jouk an lat the jaw gae by,
Tak a'thing as it comes,
An dintia wyte the grozer buss
For niver bearin' plums.
AYE, a' her life, afore she beddit
This was her prayer, as Elspet said it,
"Pouers o the air! Be guid to me!
Keep me livin'-lat ither folks dee!"
It cairrit her on till eichty-fower,
An the wolf ne'er girnt at Elspet's door.
A'body trimmelt that catched her ee,
There niver was muckle she didna see.
The lasses a' held her in deidly fear,
There niver was muckle she didna hear.
What een an lugs couldna bring till'r hoose,
Elspet niver wad fail to jalouse.
Ilk ane gae her a ceevil guid-day-
When they fand they couldna get oot o her wey.
Ilk ane gae her a cheery guid-e'en-
When sooth rinnin watter rowed canny atween.
When the miller's mear haed her fore-leg brak,
A'body kent the beast forespoke,
A'body kent it was Elspet's spells
An a'body keepit the fack til theirsel's.
Elspet niver gaed near the kirk,
Naebody likit to meet her at mirk,
An the nicht the ase-puckle set fire till her chair,
A hare slippit bye wi its hurdies bare.
Twa herds saw it an heard it squeal
As it hirpled awa for the aid o the Deil.
But dee'd she in grace or dee'd she in sin,
Her gear a' went to her next-o-kin,
An shewn fast in till a lurk in her coats
Was an auld leather bag fou o gowd an notes.
But the far-awa freen that was served her heir
Was slain in a tuilzie at Lowrin Fair.
Aye, a' her life, afore she beddit
That was her prayer as Elspet said it,
"Pouers o the air! Be guid to me!
Keep me livin' - lat ither folks dee!"
Couplet 8. A witch cannot pass the middle
of the first running stream: south-running water is specially
Couplet 9. "To forespeak" is to give undue praise to
"beast or body," and is associated with the idea of "The Evil Eye."
Couplet 13. The witch could change into the form of a hare, and injury
done to it was done to her.
These wonderful poems and the story below come from the wonderful Web Site at http://scotstext.org/
adsense September 1st 2010
A FOLK-TALE FROM ABERDEENSHIRE. By WGregor - 1884
The Wife and Her Bush of Berries
Lang syne, when geese were swine,
And turkeys chewed tobacco,
And birds biggit their nests in auld mens's beards, And mowdies del't potawtoes --
There was a wife that lived 'n a wee house by hersel',
and as she was soopin' the house one day, she fand twall pennies. So
she thought to hersel' what she wad do wi' her twall pennies, and at
last she thought she couldna do better than gang wi't to the market and
buy a kid. Sae she gaed to the market and coffed a fine kid. And as she
was gaun hame, she spied a bonny buss o' bernies growin' beside a brig.
And she says to the kid, "Kid, kid, keep my house till I pu' my bonny,
bonny buss o' berries."
"'Deed no," says the kid, "I'll no keep your house till ye pu' your bonny buss o' berries."
Then the wife gaed to the dog, and said, "Dog, dog, bite kid. Kid winna keep my house till I pu' my bonny buss o' berries."
"'Deed," says the dog, "I'll no bite the kid, for the kid never did me ony ill."
Then the wife gaed to a staff and said, "Staff, staff, strike dog; for dog winna bite kid, and kid winna keep my house," etc.
"'Deed," says the staff, "I winna strike the dog, for the dog never did me ony ill."
Then the wife gaed to the fire, and said, "Fire, fire, burn staff. Staff winna strike dog; dog winna bite kid," etc.
"'Deed," says the fire, "I winna burn the staff, for the staff never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Water, water, slocken fire. Fire winna," etc.
"'Deed," says the water, "I winna slocken fire, for fire never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Ox, ox, drink water. Water winna slocken fire," etc.
"'Deed, says the ox, "I winna drink water, for water never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Ax, ax, fell ox. Ox winna drink water," etc.
"'Deed , says the ax, "I winna fell ox, for ox never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Smith, smith, smooth ax. Ax winna," etc.
"'Deed," says the smith, "I winna smooth ax, for ax never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Rope, rope, hang smith. Smith winna smooth ax," etc.
"'Deed," says the rope, "I winna hang smith, for smith never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Mouse, mouse, cut rope. Rope winna hang smith," etc.
"'Deed," says the mouse, "I winna cut rope, for rope never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Cat, cat, kill mouse. Mouse winna cut rope; rope winna hang
smith; smith winna smooth ax; ax winna fell ox; ox winna drink water;
water winna slocken fire; fire winna burn staff; staff winna strike
dog; dog winna bite kid; kid winna keep my house till I pu' my bonny
buss o' berries."
"'Deed, says the cat, "I winna kill the mouse, for the mouse never did me ony ill."
Wife: "Do't, and I'll gie ye milk and bread."
Wi' that the cat to the mouse, and the mouse to the rope, and the rope
to the smith, and the smith to the ax, and the ax to the ox, and the ox
to the water, and the water to the fire, and the fire to the staff, and
the staff to the dog, and the dog to the kid, and the kid keepit the
wife's house, till she pu'd her bonny buss o' berries.
PAPERIN THE ROOM -
By Joe Corrie
There's a time o the year for everything,
Natur mak's that plain eneuch to us a". An paperin' a room, like the
writin o poetry, should be duin in the Spring o the year, when a man's
inspired to dae his best. But the ither Setterday mornin, when there
was a win' blawin frae the east that wad hae frozen the nose aff a
cheenie dug, an a snaw-storm brewin. Maggie, a wumman o sudden an
determined notions, wipes her mooth efter hivin her brakfast, rises to
her feet, an says, "We'll paper this kitchen the day".
"But this is Setterday," says I, "an it's no very Christian to be messtn' aboot wi paper on the Sabbath".
"The Sabbath!" says she, "Huh ! you'll hae the job feenished before supper time the nicht, Tam, or I'll no be very pleased".
There's nae guid in arguin' win' Maggie, sae I juist said, "Very weel, then, get the paper an I'll slap it on".
"You'll dae the job properly," said she,
"an nae slappin' aboot it!" An not she went to the penter's in a
tremendous hurry. She must hae boucht the paper in a tremendous hurry,
tae, for I never saw sic a complicated pattern a' my born days. I
leuked at it this wey, then that wey, an couldna mak up my mind when it
was upsides doon or doonsides up. Hooever, I didna say a wird, for I
kent frae past experience that we'd hae plenty o wirds before the job
was feenished. Sae I juist put my pipe on the mantle-piece, teuk aff my
jaikit, an rowed up my shirt sleeves.
Efter the necessary preliminaries -
shiftin' the dresser to the middle o the fluir, takin doon the picturs,
an gettin' rid o the cobwebs, I sat doon on the stool wi a pair o blunt
sheers to cut aff the selvedge. I was hauf wey throu the bolt when
Maggie leuks ower my shouther an says, "Here! you're cuttin' the wrang
side o that!" I kent that was comin for we hae a row ewer it every
time. Sae I juist kept my temper, rose slowly to my feet, teuk the bolt
to the waa an held it no. "Wha's richt an wha's wrang?" said I. But a'
she could say was, "Is it no upsides doon?" I juist ignored her, went
calmly hack to my sate an cairried on. But nae wonder I whiles tak to
Noo paperin' a room is a job for combined
operations, nae maiter hoo expert a man is at the job. She made the
paste, which o course, was ower thin then said she gaun to the shop but
wad be back before I was ready to start. Hooever, she wisna back before
I was ready to put the first bit on, but expectin' her back ony minute,
for the shop is juist next dou. I got up on the table, got the tap o
the paper at th eproper angle, then shouted oot, "Maggie ! I need a
hand here !" But there was nae Maggie there. An there I was, streetched
like a piece o elastic, haudin' up that paper wi my twa thoums, an the
rheumatics in my elbas shootin' like the toothache. An to mak things
worse, haed she no left a pun o sausage on the dresser, an there was
the cat hivin the feed o its life An while I was dain' my best vocally
an physically to put the fear o terror in the bruit, did the paper no
brak awa leavin me wi twa wee bits like postage stamps stickin' to my
thoums. An that was when Maggie cam back. sayin. "Isn't it terrible,
Mrs Dunlap, roon' in Minnigaff, haes three weans doon wi the measles."
"An dis measles in Minnigaff come afore
paperin this room !" says I, speakin' throu my teeth. Then she says,
"What's that paper lyin On the fluir for?" I jumped doon frae the table
wi a terrible noise, but before I could say a wird she saw her mangled
sausage on the dresser. "My guidness," she yelled oot, "my sausage. Did
you dae that !" "No," says I, "I'm no a cannibal -yet! It was your
beloved possums cat." An I said it wi satisfaction for she thinks a
dashed sicht mair o wee pooshums-wooshums than she dis o me whiles. I
waited till she haed put the sausage inside the dresser then I said,
quite calmly, "Maggie, if this room haes to papered the-day I must hae
concentrated help." Sae she tied an apron roon' her middle, girnin'
when she tied the knot, an rowed up the sleeves o her blouse, wi grim
determination. "I'm ready!" says she.
"But I'm no," says I, "for I've got to
paste this ower again." Sae I teuk my time an did it thoroughly, the
while she kept tappin' the fluir as if she was gettin' in trim for the
sword dance. Sae I got up on the table again an got it fixed as before,
then I said "Pou it a wee bit to the left - at the bottom." O course
she haed to pou it the wrang wey ; an when she did pou it to the left
she pou'd it ower far, then she pou'd it back, ower far again, an by
the time it was richt the paste was that dry that it wadna stick. An ye
talk aboot the pain in my back.
Hooever, we got it richt the saicont try.
Then, efter twenty meenits o silence I got up to put on anither bit. We
did that yin a bit better, but when it was fixed she says. "That's no
matched, did ye no see that !" I put on my spec's an I went furrit for
a proper examination an, true eneuch, it wisna. "An what wey did ye no
tell me that before it was stuck?" said I. "Because," says she, "you're
the man that dis naething wrang." D'ye ken, I could hae murdered her,
but insteed o dain' that I louped, aye, I louped up on the table an I
tore that paper doon wi a' the strength an temper I haed.
"What did ye dae that for I" says she. "it
wad hae duin weel eneuch !" There was naething else for it, I exploded
on her an raked up her family's past frae the days o her great-great
grandfather. She started to greet, then she tore aff her apron, put on
her coat, an said she was gaun doon to her sister Leezie's an wad never
come back to me again. To which I said, "Mey the Lord be thankit." She
went oot the hoose an gae the door sic a bang that she made my false
teeth clatter in my mooth.
But as I haed the rest o my lifetime noo to put that paper on there was nae hurry. Sae I juist put on my jaikit an
sauntered doon the street to hae a dram in peace an quiet. Wee Jimmy
Galbraith was in the bar, penter Jimmy, sae I telt him what haed been
happenin'. He's a very obleegin' wee chap sae he says, "I'm dain'
naething this mornin, Tam, I'll come an put it on for ye if ye like."
Sae I accepted his offer, but before we did get awa we'd haed a wheen o
drams, an I could see that he was in fine fettle.
Weal. Jimmy went roon' that room juist like
lichtnin' an a' I haed to dee was to stand back an say, "Fine, Jimmy,
fine man, you're a fair artist at the job." There's naething like a wee
thing o encouragement for gettin' the best oot o a man. Within' the oor
we haed the dresser back in its place, an the picturs back on the wa's
as weel. Then Jimmy said, "We've time for anither dram if we hurry up."
Which we did.
The first thing I did when I got back hame
was to start fryin' the sausage, for paperin' a room is hungry work.
Then wha should come back but Maggie. She got the surprise o her life
when she saw the room finished. "You've been very quick, Tam," said
she, as nice as could be. "Juist pruif." said I, "that when a man kens
hoo a job should be duin ha can dee it when he gets peace."
We never opened oor mooths to each ither
till efter we'd haed oor' tea then, to my great suprise she went to her
purse an haunit me twa hauf croons. "There, Tam," says she, "an I m
sorry for interferin'." An, wad ye believe it. I kissed her, the first
time for mony a day. An she started to greet again.
But she'll no hae mony tears to shed when
she hears that wee Jimmy did the job. But by that time there'll no be
much left o her twa hauf croons.
Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY He was born on this day October 7th 1849 and upon reading his wonderful poems for children, I feel certain he must have been a wonderful man he has a beautiful smile.
We're the Twins from Aunt Marinn's, Igo and Ago. When Dad comes, the show begins - Iram, coram, dago. Dad, he says he named us two Igo and Ago For a poem he always knew Iram, coram, dago.
Then he was a braw Scotchman - Igo and Ago. Now he's Scotch-Amer-i-can, Iram, coram, dago.
"Hey !" he cries, and pats his knee, " Igo and Ago, My twin bairnies, ride wi' me - Iram, coram, dago. "
"Here," he laughs, " ye've each a leg, Igo and Ago, Gleg as Tam o' Shanter's 'Meg' Iram, coram, dago.
Then we mount, with shrieks of mirth, Igo and Ago, The two gladdest twins on earth, Iram, coram, dago.
Wade and Silas Walker cry, "Igo and Ago, Annie's kissin' 'em good-bye !" Iram, coram, dago.
Aunty waves us fond farewells - "Igo and Ago "; Granny pipes, " Tak care yersels !" Iram, coram, dago.
James Whitcomb Riley
(October 7, 1849 – July 22, 1916)
Was an American writer and poet.
Known as the "Hoosier and the "Children's Poet," he started his career
during 1875 writing newspaper verse in Indiana dialect for the
Indianapolis Journal. His verse tended to be humorous or sentimental,
and of the
approximately one-thousand poems that Riley published, over half are in
dialect. Claiming that “simple sentiments that come direct from the
heart” were the reason for his success, Riley vended verse about
ordinary topics that were "heart high."
Riley was a bestselling author during the early 1900s and earned a
steady income from royalties; he also traveled and gave public readings
of his poetry. His favourite authors were Robert Burns and Charles
Dickens, and Riley himself befriended bestselling Indiana authors such
as Booth Tarkington, George Ade and Meredith Nicholson. Many of his
works were illustrated by the popular illustrator Howard Chandler
Christy. Poet", "National Poet"
Now for all the Scot's out their who are thinking, " Aye, but I'm sure the wee Rabbie wrote those words before! You're not wrong, but he admired the great Bard so much that I dinna think Rabbie would have minded, nay one wee bit." And here are the Bards word's in his ain language. Verses On Captain Grose Robert Burns
Written on an Envelope, enclosing a Letter to Him.
Ken ye aught o' Captain Grose?- Igo, and ago, If he's amang his friends or foes?- Iram, coram, dago.
Is he to Abra'm's bosom gane?- Igo, and ago,
Or haudin Sarah by the wame?- Iram, coram dago.
Is he south or is he north?- Igo, and ago,
Or drowned in the river Forth?- Iram, coram dago.
Is he slain by Hielan' bodies?- Igo, and ago,
And eaten like a wether haggis?- Iram, coram, dago.
Where'er he be, the Lord be near him!- Igo, and ago,
As for the deil, he daur na steer him.- Iram, coram, dago.
But please transmit th' enclosed letter,- Igo, and ago,
Which will oblige your humble debtor.- Iram, coram, dago.
So may ye hae auld stanes in store,- Igo, and ago,
The very stanes that Adam bore.- Iram, coram, dago,
So may ye get in glad possession,- Igo, and ago,
The coins o' Satan's coronation!- Iram coram dago.
(25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796)
also known asRabbie Burns, Scotland's favourite son,thePloughman Poet, the Bard of Ayrshireand in Scotland as simply The Bard was a Scottish poet and a lyricist. He is widely regarded as the national poet of Scotland, and is celebrated worldwide. He is the best known of the poets who have written in the Scots language,
although much of his writing is also in English and a "light" Scots
dialect, accessible to an audience beyond Scotland. He also wrote in
standard English, and in these pieces, his political or civil
commentary is often at its most blunt.
He is regarded as a pioneer of the Romantic movement and after his death became a great source of inspiration to the founders of both liberalism and socialism. A cultural icon in Scotland and among the Scottish Diaspora around the world, celebration of his life and work became almost a national charismatic cult during the 19th and 20th centuries, and his influence has long been strong on Scottish literature.
As well as making original compositions, Burns also collected folk songs from across Scotland, often revising or adaptingAuld Lang Syne is often sung at Hogmanay (the last day of the year), and Scots Wha Haenational anthem of the country. Other poems and songs of Burns that remain well-known across the world today, include A Red, Red Rose, A Man's A Man for A' That, To a Louse, To a Mouse, The Battle of Sherramuir, Tam o' Shanter and Ae Fond Kiss.
adsense September 1st 2010
Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stockdove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow; There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave.
Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
The 25th of January, 1759
marks Scotland's most famous birthday, when, in a blast
of January winds, Robert Burns was born in a humble cottage
in Alloway. This year was the celebration of his 250th birthday.
The River Afton is a tributary of the Nith, it rises in the hills on theborder of Kirkcudbrightshire. After a wild and rocky course, the stream eventually joins the Nith at New Cumnock.
Boobrie – A fabulous, gigantic shape shifting water bird that haunts the lochs and wells of Argyllshire
(now Strathclyde). As a bird he is described as being black in color with a 2’11” long neck, a hooked 17” beak, very
short legs, and webbed feet tipped with huge claws, and able to swim or fly over the top of water, with a cry like that
of an enraged bull. They have also been seen and heard galloping along the top of water in the form of a horse, with a
ghost-like appearance. They are water-bound creatures who will die if they come on land, so they prey on ships that are
transporting sheep and cattle, beef and mutton being their favorite foods, though they will eat fish when meat isn’t
adsense September 1st 2010
A water nymph who lives near Glen Affric in Scotland, she may even be a goddess of the river
she protected who was debased when Christianity reached the islands.
These diminutive water spirits of England and Scotland are both male and female and, when they
appear in human form, look as if they are in their 20s when, in actuality, they are very old souls. Their white bodies
are so translucent that they are often mistaken for ghosts and they have been known to be both good and bad to humans.
They are creatures of the night and can exist on land. Not enough is known about them to now how they feel toward
humans, or whether or not they’d be willing to aid us in ritual and spell work, so exercise caution if you decide to
contact them in their underwater kingdoms.
Cu Sith –
These formidable faery dogs of Gaelic Scotland are not a portent of death, but rather a danger to
mortals themselves. Described as being the size of a two-year old stirk (a yearling cow or bull), they are the guard
dogs of faery homes, or sidhe, and of the faeries themselves when they venture out for human cow’s milk. These green
shaggy-haired beasts are occasionally allowed to roam free, leaving huge footprints the size of a man’s in their wake,
and hiding out in the clefts of rocks. They are also said to have long tails that they either coil up on their backs
or wear in a flat braid.
"Scotland the Brave" (Scottish Gaelic: Alba an Aigh) is a
patriotic song and one of the main contenders to be considered as a
national anthem of Scotland. In June 2006, the song came second to
Flower of Scotland in an online poll with more than 10,000 votes to
determine the nation's favourite unofficial "anthem". The song is used
to represent Scotland in the Commonwealth Games.
Brave is also the authorised pipe band march of The British Columbia
Dragoons of the Canadian Forces and is played during the Pass in Review
at Friday parades at The Citadel. In 2006, it was adopted as the
regimental quick march of the Royal Regiment of Scotland.
the Brave (in schottischem Gälisch Alba an Aigh) ist neben "Flower of
Scotland" und "Scots Wha Hae" eine der drei inoffiziellen
Nationalhymnen Schottlands. Sie wird als schottische Nationalhymne bei
den Commonwealth Games verwendet. Des weiteren ist sie der
autorisierte Pipe Band-Marsch der The British Columbia Dragoons der
Kanadischen Streitkräfte und wird während der "Pass in Review" bei
Freitagsparaden an der Militärschule "The Citadel" gespielt. 2006 wurde es als schneller Regimentsmarsch des Royal Regiment of Scotland eingeführt.
Scotland the Brave (Alba an Aigh en gaélique écossais) est, avec The Flower of Scotland, l'hymne national écossais.
the Brave (en gaélico escocés, Alba an Aigh) es una canción patriótica
escocesa, y una de las candidatas para ser el himno nacional de
Escocia. En junio de 2006, en una encuesta en internet organizada por
la Royal Scottish National Orchestra, esta canción quedó segunda, sólo
por detrás de Flower of Scotland, como favorita para convertirse en
himno oficial. De hecho, Scotland the Brave ya se utiliza para
representar a Escocia en los Juegos de la Commonwealth.
the Brave» (шотл.(гэльс.): Alba an Aigh) патриотическая песня народа
Шотландии; претендует на звание неофициального гимна Шотландии.
Scotland the Brave è considerato uno degli inni non ufficiali della Scozia. Scotland The Brave is een van drie onofficiële volksliederen van Schotland. De andere zijn Flower of Scotland en Scots Wha Hae.
the Brave é um dos hinos não-oficiais da Escócia junto com Scots Wha
Hae e Flower of Scotland. Geralmente é executada como uma marcha
Scotland the Brave (Skotsk-gælisk: Alba an Aigh)
regnes som en av skottenes nasjonalsanger, og blir blant annet benyttet
som nasjonalhymne ved Samveldelekene. I likhet med England har heller
ikke Skottland noen offisiell nasjonalsang, men Scotland the Brave
benyttes tradisjonelt som nasjonens sang - ofte sammen med Flower of
Scotland. Teksten er skrevet ca. 1950 av journalisten Clifford Leonard
Clark Hanley (1922 - 1999).
Scotland the Brave, skotsk sång som brukar framföras på säckpipa. Sången brukar anses som skottlands nationalsång
adsense September 1st 2010
Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's
The King Of Lochlin's Three Daughters is a Scottish fairy tale collected by John Francis Campbell in his Popular Tales of the West Highlands, listing his informant as Neill Gillies, a fisherman near Inverary.
THE KING OF LOCHLIN'S THREE DAUGHTERS.
THERE was a king over Lochlin, once upon a time, who had a leash of
daughters; they went out (on) a day to take a walk; and there came
three giants, and they took with them the daughters of the king,
there was no knowing where they had gone. Then the king sent word for
the sheanachy, and he asked him if he knew where his lot of daughters
had gone. The sheanachy said to the king that three giants had
taken them with them, and they were in the earth down below by them, and
there was no way to get them but by making a ship that would sail on
sea and land; and so it was that the king set out an order, any one who
would build a ship that would sail on sea and on land, that he should
get the king's big daughter to marry. There was a widow there who had a
leash of sons; and the eldest said to his mother on a day that was
there, "Cook for me a bannock, and roast a cock; I am going away to cut
wood, and to build a ship that will go to seek the daughters of the
king." His mother said to him, "Which is better with thee, the big
bannock with my cursing, or a little bannock with my blessing?" "Give
me a big bannock, it will be small enough before I build a ship.
" He got a bannock and he went away. He arrived where there was
a great wood and a river, and there he sat at the side of the river to
take the bannock. A great Uruisg came out of the river, and she asked a
part of the bannock. He said that he would not give her a morsel, that
it was little enough for himself. He began cutting the wood, and every
tree he cut would be on foot again; and so he was till the night came.
When the night came, he went home mournful, tearful, blind
sorrowful. His mother asked, "How went it with thee to-day, son?" He
said "That it went but black ill; every tree I would cut would be on
foot again." A day or two after this the middle brother said that he
himself would go; and he asked his mother to cook him a cake and roast
him a cock; and in the very way as happened to his eldest brother, so
it happened to him. The mother said the very same thing to the young
one; and he took the little bannock. The Uruisg came, and she
asked a part of the cake and the cock. He said to her, "That she should
get that." When the Uruisg had eaten her own share of the cake and of
the cock, she said to him, That she knew what had brought him there as
well as he himself, but he was to go home; but to be sure to meet her
there at the end of a day and year; and that the ship would be ready at
It was thus it happened:
At the end of a day and a year the widow's
young son went, and he found that the Uruisg had the ship floating on
the river, fully equipped. He went away then with the ship, and a leash
of gentlemen, as great as were in the kingdom, that were to marry the
daughters of the king. They were but a short time sailing when they saw
a man drinking a river that was there. He asked him, "What art thou doing
there?" "I am drinking up this river." "Thou hadst better come with me,
and I will give thee meat and wages, and better work than that." "I
will do that," said he. They had not gone far forward, when they saw a
man eating a stot in a park. "What art thou doing there?" said he.
"I am here going to eat
all the stots in this park."
"Thou hadst better go
with me, and thou wilt get work, and wages
better than raw flesh." "I will do that," said he. They went but a
short distance when they saw another man with his ear to the earth.
"What art thou doing there?" said he. "I am here hearing the grass
coming through earth." "Go with me, and thou wilt get meat, and better
wages than to be there with thy ear to the earth." They were thus
sailing back and forwards, when the man who was listening said, "That
this was the place in which were the king's daughters and the giants."
The widow's son, and the three that had fallen in with them, were let
down in a creel in a great hole that was there. They reached the house
of the big giant. "Ha! ha!" said he, the giant, "I knew well what thou
art seeking here. Thou art seeking the king's daughter, but thou wilt
not get that, unless thou hast a man that wilt drink as much water as
I." He set the man who was drinking the river to hold drinking against
the giant; and before he was half satisfied the giant burst. Then they
went where the second giant was. "Ho, both! ha, hath!" said the giant,
"I know well what sent thee here; thou art seeking the king's daughter;
but thou shalt not get her, if thou hast not a man who will eat as much
flesh as I." He set the man who was eating the stot to hold the eating
of flesh against thegiant; but before he was half satisfied the giant burst. Then he
went where the third giant was. "Haio!" said the giant, "I know what
set thee here; but thou wilt not get the king's daughter, by any means,
unless thou stayest a day and a year by me a sgalag" (slave, servant).
"I will do that," said he; and he sent up in the basket, first the
three men, and then the king's daughters. The three great men were
waiting at the mouth of the hole till they should come up, and they
went with them where the king was; and they told the king that they
themselves had done all the daring deeds that there were.
When the end of a day
and year had come, he said to the giant, "that
he was going." The giant said, "That he had an eagle that would set him
up to the top of the hole." The giant set the eagle away with him, and
five stots and ten for a meal for her; but the eagle went not half way
up through the hole when she had eaten the stots, and she returned back
Then the giant said to him, "Thou must remain by me another day and
year, and then I will send thee away." When the end of this year came
he sent the eagle away with him, and ten stots and twenty. They went
this time well further on than they went before, but she ate the stots
and she turned back. "Thou must," said the giant, "stay by me another
year, and then I will send thee away." The end of this year came, and
the giant sent them away, and three score of stots for the eagle's
meat; and when they were at the mouth of the hole the stots were
expended, and she was going to turn back; but he took a steak out of
his own thigh, and he gave this to the eagle, and with one spring she
was on the surface of the earth.
At the time of parting
the eagle gave him a whistle
and she said to him, "Any hard lot that comes on thee, whistle and I
will be at thy side." He did not allow his foot to stop, or empty a
puddle out of his shoe, till he reached the king's big town. He went
where there was a smith who was in the town, and he asked the smith if
he was in want of a gillie to blow the bellows. The smith said that he
was. He was but a short time by the smith, when the king's big daughter
sent word for the smith. "I am hearing," said she, "that thou art the
best smith in the town; but if thou dost not make for me a golden
crown, like the golden crown that I had when I was by the giant, the
head shall be taken off thee." The smith came home sorrowfully,
lamentably; and his wife asked him his news from the king's house.
"There is but poor news," said the smith; "the king's daughter is
asking that a golden crown shall be made for her, like the crown that
she had when she was under the earth by the giant; but what do I know
what likeness was on the crown that the giant had." The bellows-blowing
gillie said, "Let not that set thee thinking; get thou for me enough of
gold, and I will not be long making the crown." The smith got of gold
as he asked, with the king's order. The gillie went into the smithy,
and he shut the door; and he began to splinter the gold asunder, and to
throw it out of the window. Each one that came the way was gathering
the gold, that the bellows lad was hurling out. Here, then, he blew the
whistle, and in the twinkling of an eye the eagle came. "Go," said he
to the eagle, "and bring here the golden crown that is above the big
giant's door." The eagle went, and she was not long on the way, and the
crown (was) with her. He gave the crown to the smith. The smith went so
merrily, cheerily with the crown where the king's daughter was. "Well then,"
said she, "if I did not know that it could not be done, I would not
believe that this is not the crown I had when I was with the big
giant." The king's middle daughter said to the smith, "Thou wilt lose
the head if thou dost not make for me, a silver crown, like the one I
had when I was by the giant." The smith took himself home in misery:
but his wife went to meet him, expecting great news and flattery; but
so it was, that the gillie said that he would make a silver crown if he
could get enough of silver. The smith got plenty of silver with the
king's order. The gillie went, and he did as he did before. He
whistled: the eagle came. "Go," said he, "and bring hither here to me,
the silver crown that the king's middle daughter had when she was by
The eagle went,
and she was not long on the journey with the silver
crown. The smith went merrily, cheerily, with the silver crown to the
king's daughter. "Well, then," said she, "it is marvellously like the
crown I had when I was by the giant." The king's young daughter said to
the smith that he should make a copper crown for her, like the copper
crown she had when she was by the giant. The smith now was taking
courage, and he went home much more pleasantly this turn. The gillie
began to splinter the copper, and to throw it out of each door and
window; and now they were from each end of the town gathering the
copper, as they were gathering the silver and gold. He blew the
whistle, and the eagle was at his side.
"Go back," said he,
"and bring here hither to me the copper crown
that the king's young daughter had when she was by the giant," The
eagle went, and she was not long going and coming. He gave the crown to
the smith. The smith went merrily, cheerily, and he gave it to the
king's young daughter. "Well, then!" said she, "I would not believe
that this was not the very crown that I had when I was by the giant
underground, if there were a way of getting it." Here the king said to
the smith, that he must tell him where he had learned crown making,
"for I did not know that the like of thee was in the kingdom." "Well,
then," said the smith, "with your leave, oh king, it was not I who made
the crowns, but the gillie I have blowing the bellows." "I must see thy
gillie," said the king, "till he makes a crown for myself."
The king ordered four
horses in a coach, and that they should go to
seek the smith's gillie; and when the coach came to the smithy, the
smith's gillie was smutty and dirty, blowing the bellows. The horse
gillies came, and they asked for the man who was going to look on the
king. The smith said, "That was he yonder, blowing the bellows." "Oov!
oov!" said they; and they (set) to catch him, and throw him head
foremost into the coach, as if they had a dog.
They went not far on
their journey when he blew the whistle. The
eagle was at his side. "If ever thou didst good for me take me out of
this, and fill it full of stones," said he. The eagle did this. The
king was out waiting on the coach; and when the king opened the door of
the coach, he was like to be dead with the stones bouncing on top of
him. There was catching of the horse gillies, and hanging them for
giving such an affront to the king,
Here the king sent
other gillies with a coach and when they reached
the smithy, "Oov! oov!" said they. "Is this, the black thing the king
sent us to seek?" They caught him, and they cast him into the coach as if they had a
turf peat. But they went not far on their way
when he blew the whistle, and the eagle was at his side; and he said to
her, "Take me out of this, and fill it with every dirt thou canst get."
When the coach reached the king's palace, the king went to open the
door. Each dirt and rubbish fell about the king's head. Then the king
was in a great rage, and he ordered the horse gillies to be hanged
immediately. Here the king sent his own confidential servant away; and
when he reached the smithy, he caught the black bellows-blowing gillie
by the hand. "The king," said he, "sent me to seek thee. Thou hadst
better clean a little of the coal off thy face." The gillie did this;
he cleaned himself well, and right well; and the king's servant caught
him by the hand, and he put him into the coach. They were but a short
time going, when he blew the whistle. The eagle came; and he asked her
to bring the gold and silver dress that was by the big giant here
without delay, and the eagle was not long going and coming with the
dress. He arrayed himself with the giant's dress. And when they came to
the king's palace, the king came, and he opened the door of the coach,
and there was the very finest man the king ever saw. The king took him
in, and he told the king how it happened to him from first to last. The
three great men who were going to marry the king's daughters were
hanged, and the king's big daughter was given him to marry; and they
made them a wedding the length of twenty nights and twenty days; and I
left them dancing, and I know not but that they are cutting capers on
the floor till the day of to-day.
adsense September 1st 2010
If you have never heard of the Corries, then you're not Scot's and you don't know good music. Sadly Roy died many years ago on his way home from a gig, and Ronnie didn't sing for a while but then to remember his best mate and to make sure no one forgot him, (as if they could) Ronnie made a tribute song for Roy and away to go, that was him back on the road again. I have loved the Corries since I was very young, there used to be three guys and a girl but then they drifted apart and we were left with Ronnie and Roy. Long May They Remain, both in Heaven and on Earth and in our Hearts, I have most of their music.
Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's
THE TWO MARGARET'S: Sir John Everett Millais, 1829-96
The Solway Martyr
Wilson and Margaret McLauchlan, two of Scotland women who's names were
heard throughout 1685, and still not forgotten in some parts of
So who were these two Margaret's, read on , life wasn't always fun and games you know........
name of Margaret Wilson should never be forgotten in Scotland. She was
the daughter of a Scottish farmer who lived a long time ago. There was
a great persecution going on in Scotland, and all the people who would
not worship God in the way the law ordered were put into prison, and
Margaret Wilson was put in prison, though
quite a young girl, about eighteen with an older woman Margaret
McLauchlan. Soon afterwards she was sentenced to death. But her father
went to Edinburgh, there he persuaded the council to pardon her. The
pardon, however, had to be signed in London, and the council never
intended that she should really be reprieved, for before the pardon
could come back from London, they ordered the two women to be put to
death. Then on May 11th 1685, the two Margarets were tied to two stakes driven into the bed of the river at low tide.
The stake to which Margaret Wilson was fastened was higher up the
bank than the other, and just behind it. So that she could see all that
happened to her companion. A large crowd of people stood by waiting to see the end.
Slowly the tide came in, and soon the older woman was drowning. The
last sounds she heard in life were the strains of the twenty third
Psalm sung by her companion higher up the bank. The soldiers thought
Margaret Wilson would give up her religion when she saw that her friend
was dead, but they were wrong. Calmly as the water rose about her, she
opened her Bible and read aloud the eighth chapter of Romans: "Whom
so ever shall separate us from the love of Christ?" Then she bent her
head and prayed, and while her eyes were closed the water crept up and
swept over her. "Give her one last chance!" shouted the people. So they drew her up and asked her this question: "Will you obey the law, and worship God as the law orders?" "No," was her reply. "I cannot. I am one of Christ's children. Let me go." So they let her go again and abandoned her to her fate.
When it was all over, and the tide had gone back, the friends of the
two Margarets cut the cords that bound them and carried their bodies
away for burial. They where buried together in a quiet graveyard at Wigtown.
This may seem a strange tale to put in here, but then again,
all tales are not nice, are they? Some
of them are Nightmare's, such is life. Not everything that is done in
life is good. Quite often a lot of the things that happen in life can
be bad, very bad. But it is hoped that our elders will learn by their
mistakes and hopefully the next Dodie will not have to write
such a sad story, for hopefully it would never have happened.
from Wigtown, Galloway in Scotland
executed by drowning for refusing to swear an oath declaring the King
of England as head of the church. She died on May 11, in either 1684 or
A member of the Free Church, Margaret refused to recognise the established Church of Scotland
and swear the abjuration oath to the King. As a consequence she and an
older friend, Margaret McLauchlan, were condemned to death by drowning
and were chained to stakes on the Solway Firth.
Although at the last moment, choking on the salt water, she was allowed
to offer a prayer for the King, this was not good enough for her
accusers, and she was forcibly thrust beneath the waves. It is said
that, as the tide rose, she defiantly quoted from the psalms and the
Epistles and sang. After her drowning, witnesses described how her hair
floated around her head like a halo in the clear water.
She is the subject of the painting “The Martyr of Solway” by the Pre-Raphaelite artist John Everett Millais, which now hangs in the Walker Gallery in Liverpool.
Although the painting today shows Margaret wearing an open-neck blouse,
when conservators x-rayed the piece, they found that this picture had
originally been a nude. Having painted the picture in about 1871,
Millais is thought to have added the clothing later to placate delicate
Victorian sensibilities. About 18 at the time of her death, Margaret Wilson was buried,
together with her friend Margaret McLauchlan, in the churchyard of
GRANNIE, Grannie, come tell us the story of the Wee Bannock.'
'Hout, childer, ye've heard it a hundred times afore. I needn't tell it over again.'
'Ah! but, grannie, it's such a fine one. You must tell it. Just once.'
'Well, well, if ye'll all promise to be good, I'll tell it ye again.'
There lived an old man and an old woman at the side of a burn. They
had two cows, five hens, and a cock, a cat and two kittens. The old man
looked after the cows, and the old wife span on the distaff. The
kittens oft gripped at the old wife's spindle, as it tussled over the
hearthstone. 'Sho, sho,' she would say, 'go away'; and so it tussled
One day, after breakfast, she thought she would have a bannock. So
she baked two oatmeal bannocks, and set them on to the fire to harden.
After a while, the old man came in, and sat down beside the fire, and
takes one of the bannocks, and snaps it through the middle. When the
other one sees this, it runs off as fast as it could, and the old wife
after it, with the spindle in the one hand, and the distaff in the
other. But the wee bannock ran away and out of sight, and ran till it
came to a pretty large thatched house, and it ran boldly up inside to
the fireside; and there were three tailors sitting on a big bench. When
they saw the wee bannock come in, they jumped up, and got behind the
goodwife, that was carding tow by the fire. 'Hout,' quoth she, 'be no
afeard; it's but a wee bannock. Grip it, and I'll give ye a sup of milk
with it.' Up she gets with the tow-cards and the tailor with the goose,
and the two 'prentices, the one with the big shears, and the other with
the lawbrod; but it dodged them, and ran round about the fire; and one
of the 'prentices, thinking to snap it with the shears, fell into the
ashes. The tailor cast the goose, and the goodwife the tow-cards; but
it wouldn't do. The bannock ran away, and ran till it came to a wee
house at the roadside; and in it runs, and there was a weaver sitting
at the loom, and the wife winding a clue of yarn.
'Tibby,' quoth he, 'what's that?' 'Oh,' quoth she, 'it's a wee bannock.' 'It's well come,' quoth he, 'for our porrage were but thin today. Grip it, my woman; grip it.'
'Hout,' quoth Willie, 'cast the clue at it.' But the bannock dodged round about, and off it went, and over the
hill, like a new-tarred sheep or a mad cow. And forward it runs to the
neat-house, to the fireside; and there was the goodwife churning. 'Come away, wee bannock,' quoth she; 'I'll have cream and bread
today.' But the wee bannock dodged round about the churn, and the wife
after it, and in the hurry she had near-hand overturned the churn. And
before she got it set right again, the wee bannock was off and down the
brae to the mill; and in it ran. The miller was sifting meal in the trough; but, looking up:
'Aye,' quoth he, 'it's a sign of plenty when ye're running about,
and nobody to look after ye. But I like a bannock and cheese. Come your
way hither, and I'll give ye a night's quarters.' But the bannock
wouldn't trust itself with the miller and his cheese. So it turned and
ran its way out; but the miller didn't fash his head with it.
So it toddled away and ran till it came to the smithy; and in it
runs, and up to the anvil. The smith was making horse-nails. Quoth he:
'I like a glass of good ale and a well-toasted bannock. Come your way
in by here.' But the bannock was frightened when it heard about the
ale, and turned and was off as hard as it could, and the smith after
it, and cast the hammer. But it missed, and the bannock was out of
sight in a crack, and ran till it came to a farmhouse with a good
peat-stack at the end of it. Inside it runs to the fireside. The
goodman was cloving lint, and the goodwife heckling. 'O Janet,' quoth
he, 'there's a wee bannock; I'll have the half of it.'
'Well, John, I'll have the other half. Hit it over the back with the
clove.' But the bannock played dodgings. 'Hout, tout,' quoth the wife,
and made the heckle flee at it. But it was too clever for her.
And off and up the burn it ran to the next house, and rolled its way
to the fireside. The goodwife was stirring the soup, and the goodman
plaiting sprit-binnings for the cows. 'Ho, Jock,' quoth the goodwife,
'here come. You're always crying about a wee bannock. Here's one. Come
in, haste ye, and I'll help ye to grip it.' 'Ay, mother, where is it?' 'See there. Run over on that side.' But the bannock ran in behind the goodman's chair. Jock fell among
the sprits. The goodman cast a binning, and the goodwife the spurtle.
But it was too clever for Jock and her both. It was off and out of
sight in a crack, and through among the whins, and down the road to the
next house, and in and snug by the fireside. The folk were just sitting
down to their soup, and the goodwife scraping the pot. 'Look,' quoth
she, 'there's a wee bannock come in to warm itself at our fireside.' 'Shut the door,' quoth the goodman, 'and we'll try to get a grip of it.'
When the bannock heard that, it ran out of the house and they after
it with their spoons, and the goodman shied his hat. But it rolled away
and ran, and ran, till it came to another house; and when it went in
the folk were just going to their beds. The goodman was taking off his
breeches, and the goodwife raking the fire. 'What's that?' quoth he. 'Oh,' quoth she,
'it's a wee bannock.' Quoth he, 'I could eat the half of it.' 'Grip it,' quoth the wife,
'and I'll have a bit, too. Cast your
breeches at it!' The goodman shied his breeches, and had nearly
smothered it. But it wriggled out and ran, and the goodman after it
without his breeches; and there was a clean chase over the craft park,
and in among the whins; and the goodman lost it, and had to come away,
trotting home half naked. But now it was grown dark, and the wee
bannock couldn't see; but it went into the side of a big whin bush, and
into a fox's hole. The fox had had no meat for two days. 'O welcome,
welcome,' quoth the fox, and snapped it in two in the middle. And that
was the end of the wee bannock.
Another exiled fairy is called "The Little Old Man of the Barn".
lives to a great age--some say until he is over two hundred years
old--but he remains strong and active although his back is bent and his
long grey beard-reaches to his ankles. He wears grey clothing, and the
buttons of his coat are of silver. On his high peaked cap there is a
white owl's feather. The face of the little old man is covered with
wrinkles, but his eyes are bright and kindly. He is always in a hurry,
and hobbles about, leaning on his staff, but he walks so quickly that
the strongest man can hardly keep up with him. When he begins to work
he works very hard and very quickly. He will not hold a conversation
with anyone once he begins to perform a task. If a man who has second
sight should address him, saying: "How are you, old man?" he will
answer: "I'm busy, busy, busy." If he should be asked: "What are you doing?" he will
give the same answer, repeating it over and over again. It is no use
trying to chat with the little old man.
There was once an old crofter whose name was Callum. He had seven
strong sons, but one by one they left him to serve as keepers of the
deer. Callum was left to do all the work on the croft. He had to cut
the corn and thresh it afterwards, and had it not been for the
assistance given him by the "Little Old Man of the Barn", he would
never have been able to get the threshing done.
Each night the fairy man entered the barn and worked very hard. The following verses are from a song about Callum:--
When all the big lads will be hunting the deer,
And no one for helping old Callum comes near,
Oh, who will be busy at threshing his corn?
Who will come in the night and be going at morn?--
The Little Old Man of the Barn.
Yon Little Old Man--
So tight and so braw, he will bundle the straw, The Little Old Man of the Barn.
When the peat will turn grey, and the shadows fall deep, And weary old Callum is snoring asleep; When yon plant by the door will keep fairies away, And the horseshoe sets witches a-wandering till day,
The Little Old Man of the Barn,
Yon Little Old Man
Will thrash with no light in the mouth of the night--
The Little Old Man of the Barn.
Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's
JESSIE McCRAE AND THE GILLIE DHU
There was once a fairy exile who lived in a wood in Gairloch,
Ross-shire. He was called Gillie Dhu, which means "dark servant",
because he had dark hair and dark eyes. He wore a green garment made of
moss and the leaves of trees. Nobody feared him, for he never did any
harm. Once a little girl, whose name was Jessie Macrae, was wandering in
the wood and lost her way.
It was in summer time, and the air was warm.
When evening came on Jessie began to grow afraid, but although she
hastened her steps she could not find her way out of the wood. At
length, weary and footsore, she sat down below a fir tree and began to
weep. A voice spoke to her suddenly from behind, saying: "Why are you
crying, little girl?"
Jessie looked round and saw the Gillie Dhu. He had hair black as the
wing of a raven, eyes brown as hazel-nuts in September, and his mouth
was large; he had a hundred teeth, which were assmall as herring
bones. The Gillie Dhu was smiling: his cream-yellow cheeks had merry
dimples, and his eyes were soft and kindly. Had Jessie seen him at a
distance, with his clothing of mossand leaves, she would have run away
in terror, but as he seemed so kindly and friendly she did notfeel the
"Why are you crying, little girl?" the Gillieasked again. "Your tear-drops are falling like dew on the little blue flowers at your feet."
"I have lost my way," said Jessie in a low voice, "and the night is coming on."
Said the Gillie: "Do not cry, little girl; I shall lead you through
the wood. I know every path--the rabbit's path, the hare's path, the
fox's path, the goat's path, the path of the deer, and the path of men."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Jessie said. She looked the fairy up and down, and wondered to see his strange clothing. "Where do you dwell, little girl?" asked Gillie Dhu.
Jessie told him, and he said: "You have been walking every way but
the right way.
Follow me, and you'll reach home before the little stars
come out to peer at me through the trees."
The Gillie turned round about, and began to trip lightly in front of
He went so fast that she feared she would lose sight of him,
but he turned round again and again, and when he found she was far
behind, he danced a pretty dance until she came up to him.
scampered on as before.
At length Jessie reached the edge of the wood, and saw her home
beside the loch. The Gillie bade her good-bye, and said:
"Have I not
led you well? Do not forget me. I am the Gillie Dhu, and
I love little girls and little boys. If ever you get lost in the wood
again, I shall come to your aid. Good-bye, little girl, good-bye."
He laughed merrily, and then trotted away and was soon lost to sight among the trees.
There was once a fairy exile who was a dummy. The Fairy Queen had
punished him for some offence by taking away his powers of speech and
hearing, and forbade any other fairy to go near him. He wore a bright
red jacket and green breeches, and from beneath his little red cap his
long curling hair, which was yellow as broom, dropped down on his
shoulders. The dummy had cheeks red as rowan berries and laughing blue
eyes, and he was always smiling. It made one happy to look at him. He
was always so contented and pleased and playful, although he was deaf
and dumb, that he put everyone who met him in good humour.
For a long time the fairy dummy lived all alone beneath a great heap
of stones, called the Grey Cairn, on a lonely moor in the Black Isle,
in Ross-shire. This cairn is in a fir wood which skirts the highway.
When a cart came along the highway the fairy dummy used to steal out
from behind a big grey stone, smiling and smiling. Then he would jump
on the axle of a wheel, and whirl round and round; and the faster the
cart would go the better he would be pleased. He would drop off the axle at the edge of the
wood, but he never forgot to turn round and smile to the driver as he
The people liked to see the little fairy dummy whirling round and
round on the cart-wheel, because they believed he always brought them
One day a farmer and his wife were going to the Fair of St. Norman at Cromarty to sell their butter and eggs, but when they reached the
big grey stone the Little Red Dummy did not come in sight.
The farmer, who was ill-tempered that day, wanted to go on without
giving the little fellow a whirl on the cart-wheel, but his wife said:
"No, no; if you will not wait for him, I'll get down and walk home; for
we would have no luck at the Fair if we missed the bonnie wee red man."
The woman was looking through the trees, and suddenly she began to laugh.
"Look, Sandy dear, look!" she cried, "there comes the Little Red Dummy--the bonnie wee man--oh, the dear little fairy!"
The farmer was frowning and ill-tempered, but when he looked round he began to smile, for the little red fairy was smiling so sweetly to
him. He whipped up his mare, and cried over his shoulder to his wife:
"Is he on the wheel yet, Kirsty dear; is he on the wheel?"
"Yes, yes, Sandy dear," Kirsty answered,--he's on now. Go faster, Sandy--the faster you go the better he'll be pleased."
The farmer cried to the mare: "Gee-up, jenny, gee-up, my lass!" and the old mare went trotting along the highway, while the little red
fairy sat on the axle, whirling round and round with the wheel, and
smiling and smiling all the time.
When he dropped off at the edge of the wood, his bright yellow hair
was streaming over his laughing eyes, and his cheeks were redder than
hazel-berries. The fairy smiled to Sandy and smiled to Kirsty, looking
over his shoulder as he ran away. "The dear wee man!" cried the farmer's wife.
"The happy little chap," cried the farmer.
They both looked back to see the glint of the fairy's red jacket as he ran merrily through the trees. They both felt very happy, and they
were happier still when they were on their way homeward, because they
had secured good prices for their butter and eggs at the Fair.
There was a miller who had a mill with a waterwheel in a woody dell
not far from the Grey Cairn. The little fairy dummy was fond of him,
because he got many a fine whirl on the mill-wheel. Every morning and
every evening the miller left a little cog of oatmeal porridge on the
window-sill for the wee red man. Sometimes, when he was busy tying the bags of meal, the fairy would look in at the door and
smile and smile, until the miller felt so happy that he forgot he was
old, and began to whistle or sing like a young lad on a bright May
When the miller was getting frail, the little red fairy used to help
him at his work. Every now and then he would run out to whirl round the
mill-wheel, and he would come back with the spray clinging to his hairlike dew-drops on whin blossom