Musical Interlude

Margaret mairead at
Wed Apr 14 14:41:13 PDT 1999

Jings! In the spirit of Max's lovely post, here's another. This one's from Scotland (written by Brian McNeill, late of the Battlefield Band, and Hamish Henderson, a fine trad singer) but the sentiment applies universally--and nowhere moreso than in the bloody US today:

I was listening to The news the other day. I heard a fat politician Who had the cheek to say He was proud to be Scottish, By the way, With the glories of our past To remember, Here's tae us, wha's like us, Listen to the cry! No surrender to the truth And here's the reason why -- The pride and the glory's Just another bloody lie They use to Keep us all in line.

chorus: For there's no gods And there's precious few heroes, But there's plenty on the dole In the land o' the leal, And it's time now To sweep the future clear O' the lies of a past That we know was never real.

So to hell with The heather and the glen. They cleared us off once And they'd do it all again, For they still prefer sheep To thinkin' men, Aye, but men that think like sheep Are even better. There's nothing much to choose Between the old laird and the new. They still don't give a damn For the likes of me and you. Just mind you pay your rent To the factor when it's due, And mind your bloody manners When you pay!


And tell me, will we Never hear the end Of poor bloody Charlie And Culloden yet again? Though he ran like a Rabbit down the glen, Leavin' better folk than Him to be butchered. Or are you sittin' in your council house, Thinkin' o' your clan? Waitin' for the Jacobites To come and free the land? Try goin' doon the broo Wi' a claymore in your hand And count all the Princes in the queue!


So don't talk to me of Scotland The Brave, For if we don't fight soon, There'll be nothin' left to save, Or would you rather stand And watch them dig your grave While you wait for The tartan Messiah? He'll lead us to the promised land Wi' laughter in his eye. We'll all live off the oil And the whisky by and by. Free heavy beer, Pie suppers in the sky, Will we never hae The sense to learn?

That there's no gods And there's precious few heroes, But there's plenty on the dole In the land o' the leal, And I'm damn sure That there's plenty live in fear O' the day we stand together With our shoulders to the wheel!

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