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A lovely poem which mentions the River Clyde, by Elizabeth Fleming

lady Moon  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,Fairy nets sweeping

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.

Lady Moon Bog  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...




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.




Years 1917, 1918 in date order


Scotlands William Kidd, still holds secret long after his death in 1701...William Kidd

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.

Captain William KiddThanks 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.

Pirate William KiddNow 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.

Captain William Kidd 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 privateering!! 

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. 

Dee and Dot






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 efficacious. 

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.

                                            Couplet 16. "Ill-gotten gear carries nae blessin'."

TIME WAS (1926)

"TIME was"--in the Gaelic he thunnert
Wi the air fou o stour,
Frae the brods that his twa nieves haed duntit
For mair than an hoor-
"When the weemin o this congregation
Could sit on their hair"--
An his een, like a gled's, seekit a' gait
For shingl't heids there
Regairdless o Paul's holy flytin
On earlier flirts -
"But noo they will no finnd it easy
To sit on their skirts."
The kirk skailt, an traivellin' hamewan
At Sabbath-like pace,
While the men said the wirds o the preacher
Was pang-fou o grace,
The weemin o that congregation,
Gey mim-mou'd an grim,
At the back o their minds wisna thinkin
Sae muckle o him.

These wonderful poems and the story below come from the wonderful Web Site at http://scotstext.org/

adsense September 1st 2010


  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.


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 the dram.

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

Dee and Dot

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."
Capt. Grose, Friend of Robbie Burns
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.

Robert Burns

(25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796)

also known as Rabbie Burns, Scotland's favourite son, the Ploughman Poet, the Bard of Ayrshire and 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.

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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


Dee and Dot

Afton Water Near New Cumnock

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 riv
er, the theme of my lays;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Robert Burns

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 the  border of Kirkcudbrightshire.
After a wild and rocky course, the stream eventually joins the Nith at New Cumnock.


Dee and Dot

Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's


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 available.
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 Affric –
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.

Asrais –

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.


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"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.
Scotland the 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.

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.
Scotland 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.

«Scotland 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.

Scotland 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 binária 4/4.

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

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 Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's

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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.

Dee and Dot


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,

and 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 hahttp://sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/cdm/img/front.jpgd 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 the end.

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 the giant; 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 again.

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 giant."

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.

The Eagle came to his whistleThey 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.                              

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Dee and Dot

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.

The Wonderful Corries

 Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's

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   Sir John Everett Millais, 1829-96

 The Solway Martyr

Margaret Wilson and Margaret McLauchlan, two of Scotland women who's names were heard throughout 1685, and still not forgotten in some parts of Scotland today.

So who were these two Margaret's, read on , life wasn't always fun and games you know........

The 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 often killed.

       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.

Covenanter, 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 1685.

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 Wigtown.

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Dee and Dot

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.'

the Wee Bannock

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 about.

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.'

'Ay,' quoth she; 'what recks! That's a clever bannock. Catch it, Willie; catch it, man.'

'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.              

 the Wee Bannock

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Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's


                             Another exiled fairy is called "The Little Old Man of the Barn". the little old man in the barn

He 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?
o 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


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 least afraid.

"Why are you crying, little girl?" the Gillie asked 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 the girl.

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.

Then he 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.

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Dee and Dot

    Dr. Do-Diddily and the Dee Dot's


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 ran away.

The people liked to see the little fairy dummy whirling round and round on the cart-wheel, because they believed he always brought them luck.

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. Click to view image details

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 morning.

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 hair like dew-drops on whin blossom

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