I’ve been listening to the songs by the group “Wild Mountain Thyme” on Napster. They do Irish and Scottish drinking songs which both cheer me up and alternately make me cry (depending on the song). The song that’s stuck in my head these days as I fall asleep is this one…<\/p>\n
Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar, Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Though the waves leap, soft shall ye sleep, Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Many’s the lad fought on that day, Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, Burned are their homes, exile and death Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing, OK… a little on the bloody side (it is about Bonnie Prince Charles escaping to the Isle of Skye and the Battle of Culloden — it’s a Scottish thing) but it’s a comforting tune.<\/p>\n The song “Wild Mountain Thyme” is also liable to make me cry these days as well…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I’ve been listening to the songs by the group “Wild Mountain Thyme” on Napster. They do Irish and Scottish drinking songs which both cheer me up and alternately make me cry (depending on the song). The song that’s stuck in … Continue reading
\nOnward! the sailors cry;
\nCarry the lad that’s born to be King
\nOver the sea to Skye.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nThunderclouds rend the air;
\nBaffled, our foes stand by the shore,
\nFollow they will not dare.<\/p>\n
\nOnward! the sailors cry;
\nCarry the lad that’s born to be King
\nOver the sea to Skye.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nOcean’s a royal bed.
\nRocked in the deep, Flora will keep
\nWatch by your weary head.<\/p>\n
\nOnward! the sailors cry;
\nCarry the lad that’s born to be King
\nOver the sea to Skye.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nWell the claymore could wield,
\nWhen the night came, silently lay
\nDead in Culloden’s field.<\/p>\n
\nOnward! the sailors cry;
\nCarry the lad that’s born to be King
\nOver the sea to Skye.<\/em><\/p>\n
\nScatter the loyal men;
\nYet e’er the sword cool in the sheath
\nCharlie will come again.<\/p>\n
\nOnward! the sailors cry;
\nCarry the lad that’s born to be King
\nOver the sea to Skye.<\/em><\/p>\n