Ma Heroes o' Music
by Roger McKillop
Genre: Memoir
Swearwords: None.
Description: Groin’ up in the Sixties I discovered ma trinity o’ personal Scottish heroes. For ma generation much of our heritage and culture was disseminated tae us by the writtin’s o’ Nigel Tranter an’ the music o’ The Corries. Tae these, as a Rugby player, A ay’ add the commentaries o’ Bill McLaren. A wrote and sent tributes tae them aw’ an’ A’m proud tae say that A received gracious replies. This is ma tribute tae The Corries.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Groin’ up in the Sixties I discovered ma trinity o’ personal Scottish heroes. For ma generation much of our heritage and culture was disseminated tae us by the writtin’s o’ Nigel Tranter an’ the music o’ The Corries. Tae these, as a Rugby player, A ay’ add the commentaries o’ Bill McLaren. A wrote and sent tributes tae them aw’ an’ A’m proud tae say that A received gracious replies. This is ma tribute tae The Corries.
A
wis a wee laddie, A wis stan’in’ in the playground o’ Musselburgh Grammer, on
ma furst day at Secondary school. We were aw’ in line an’ aw’ talkin’ loudly.
The Staffroom windi opened an’ a rid Heid an’ beard wis stuck lot an’ telt us
aw’ tae “Shut your bluidy mouths!” The voice, heid an’ beard belonged tae
Ronnie Browne, then a 1/3rd o’ The Corrie Folk Trio an’ mair important yin o’ oor Art teachers! A mind
askin’ the Music teacher, why Ronnie had resigned, when the Trio became a duo,
we thought teachin’ wis a posh job! Enfer 40 years in Education, A thoroughly
disabused masel’ o’ this theory! A wrote this yi, again sittin’ in a Minibus
awaitin’ the return o’ ma Orienteerin’ students. A sent an’ it an’ “Culloden”
tae Ronnie, when he wis pursuin’ a solo career efter the death o’ his partner
Roy Williamson an’ wis taken by surprise when he phoned me to thank me. We
celebrated this recognition bit perhaps the third bottle o’ wine wis a mistake!
A wis workin’ oan ma Uncle Peter’s wisdom, “Yin’s fine, twa’s plenty, three’s
no’ enough!”
Ronnie
Did yi' ken what yi' meant tae oor land?
Did yi' ken, jist how much, yi' were loved?
Did yi' sense, an' oor, pleasure an' pride,
An' the Scots, were aw', on yir side?
Yi embodied oor culture an' past,
Yi' gave us oor anthem an' hope,
United oor nation in song,
Emotions sung, loudly an' long.
Yi were mair than, jist entertainers,
We aw' considered yi' friends.
Tae jine in a laugh or a tear,
The faithful came year efter year.
But oh, yon dark August day,
The dreadful news, finally broke,
Yi' lost yir partner an' friend,
An' we thought oor music would end.
But thank you for soldierin' on,
An' though theres a gap tae yir right,
Yir talent has filled us wi' pride,
An' affection we jist canny hide.
Thank you for pleasures gone by,
Thank you for those yet tae come,
May yir career be succeful an' lang,
An' Flower o' Scotland, Scotland's ain sang.
Did yi' ken what yi' meant tae oor land?
Did yi' ken, jist how much, yi' were loved?
Did yi' sense, an' oor, pleasure an' pride,
An' the Scots, were aw', on yir side?
Yi embodied oor culture an' past,
Yi' gave us oor anthem an' hope,
United oor nation in song,
Emotions sung, loudly an' long.
Yi were mair than, jist entertainers,
We aw' considered yi' friends.
Tae jine in a laugh or a tear,
The faithful came year efter year.
But oh, yon dark August day,
The dreadful news, finally broke,
Yi' lost yir partner an' friend,
An' we thought oor music would end.
But thank you for soldierin' on,
An' though theres a gap tae yir right,
Yir talent has filled us wi' pride,
An' affection we jist canny hide.
Thank you for pleasures gone by,
Thank you for those yet tae come,
May yir career be succeful an' lang,
An' Flower o' Scotland, Scotland's ain sang.
A wrote this Song/poem efter Roy’s death in 1990. He lived long enough to hear Flower of Scotland passionately sung at Murrayfield when Scotland beat Will Carling’s English team 13-7 tae win the 5 Nation Championship, Calcutta Cup an’ Triple Crown. Many folk associate the sang wi’ Rugby bit it furst came tae general attention when the crowds at Hampden durin’ the auld Home Nations Championship. This is the sang’s legitimacy, it wis spontaneously chosen by the people, no’ the “Great an’ the bluidy Guid.” Roy’s death wis announced on the mornin’ o’ the furst day o’ the new college year in 1990. A nivir felt less like bein’ there than thon day!
Roy
(Tune:- Lassie with the Yellow Coatie)
Laddie wi' the knowin' smile,
laughin' eyes that could beguile,
Dancin' fingers, rest a-while,
Till “we see your like again”!
You gave us back oor past an' culture,
Scottish words tae love an' nurture,
Pointed out a better future,
Oh! How much we owe tae thee!
Your music mair than entertained us,
Tae motivate an' educate us,
Songs o' freedom tae sustain us,
Till we up, an' rise again!
Laddie wi', outrageous, stories,
Tales o' Scotland's ancient glories,
Hie'lan' mountains, rugged coires,
Voice o' oor “bit hill an' glen!”
Unite, oor country's, he'rts in song,
Fill oor teams wi' passions strong,
Oor nation's pride, sung loud an' long,
“Flower of Scotland”, that was thee!
Your song's become oor battle cry,
Inspirin' us tae up an' try,
When we're free, then bye an' bye,
Oor anthem will hae cam' frae thee!
Laddie on whom talent fell,
O' skill an' humour, we maun tell,
An' keep your mem'ry; rest you well,
Till “we see your like again!”
(Tune:- Lassie with the Yellow Coatie)
Laddie wi' the knowin' smile,
laughin' eyes that could beguile,
Dancin' fingers, rest a-while,
Till “we see your like again”!
You gave us back oor past an' culture,
Scottish words tae love an' nurture,
Pointed out a better future,
Oh! How much we owe tae thee!
Your music mair than entertained us,
Tae motivate an' educate us,
Songs o' freedom tae sustain us,
Till we up, an' rise again!
Laddie wi', outrageous, stories,
Tales o' Scotland's ancient glories,
Hie'lan' mountains, rugged coires,
Voice o' oor “bit hill an' glen!”
Unite, oor country's, he'rts in song,
Fill oor teams wi' passions strong,
Oor nation's pride, sung loud an' long,
“Flower of Scotland”, that was thee!
Your song's become oor battle cry,
Inspirin' us tae up an' try,
When we're free, then bye an' bye,
Oor anthem will hae cam' frae thee!
Laddie on whom talent fell,
O' skill an' humour, we maun tell,
An' keep your mem'ry; rest you well,
Till “we see your like again!”
Oan that great September mornin' when Scotland declared it wanted tae make it's ain decisions, Ronnie Browne made his way oan tae the Playhouse flare an' sung Flower of Scotland. Tae me it was very symbolic. The poem says, hopefully clearly whit A believe, Flower of Scotland is the National Anthem, chosen by Scots, needin' nae competition run by the arts council tae write yin! Sic statements though are nane the waur o’ proof an’ when asked a wee while ago, what Ronnie thought aboot a competition, he said “A competition? Bring it on!”
Perhaps Roy, a sportsman, would hae agreed. An Anthem is aboot a Nation’s he’rt, jist mind the pride an’ tears o’ oor Gowden athletes last year an’ those frae Wales, in contrast wi’ the pair English kids wha ran, jumped, foucht an’ swam their he’rts oot bit had nae connection wi’ “Jerusalem!” Were they ever consulted as tae their anthem? Perhaps England wid be weel advised tae, yince again, tae a lead frae their Celtic neighbours an’ choose an anthem o’ their ain, sae, as lang as the Union lasts, “God Save the Queen”can be a unifying rather than a devisive force!
The Flower in the Dawn
Auld hope rewoke, in Reekie's dawn,
Wi' self-belief that's lang been gone,
Oor Nation's course, at last, was drawn,
Tae stride alang,
An' as these winds o' change were blawn,
You sang oor sang!
Tae bless oor country's new resolve,
Frae strength tae strength we will evolve,
As emasculated fears dissolve,
Frae oor lang night!
Aw' Scotland's flowers, we must involve,
Sae let's unite!
White heid high, chest fu o' pride,
Wi' feelings you could never hide,
Your partner's soul, there by your side,
Wi' frien's at hand,
Emotion’s surgin' like the tide,
Tae praise oor land!
Unofficial, they may call the Flower,
Hae they no' heard o' people power?
Nae gift, frae some exalted tower:-
Bit people's choice!
Sae let aw' doubters hide an' cower,
Frae Scotland's voice!
Roy may hae penned auld Scotia's song,
An' Corries sang it, loud an' long,
Bit in the he'rts o' the throne,
It found it's place,
Expressin' pride, for right or wrong,
O' aw' or race!
Aye! It recalls auld battles, past,
When Bruce's Scots, stood strong an' fast,
Sae freedom, in their land, would last,
They aw' held firm.
An' now we stand, oor die's been cast,
Their faith, confirm!
Oan Devolution’s dawn you sung,
Aw' patriotic he'rts you wrung,
Oan, weel ken't, words, their passions hung,
An' tears flowed lang,
Tae their ain anthem, Scot's hae clung,
“The Flower's” oor sang.
Auld hope rewoke, in Reekie's dawn,
Wi' self-belief that's lang been gone,
Oor Nation's course, at last, was drawn,
Tae stride alang,
An' as these winds o' change were blawn,
You sang oor sang!
Tae bless oor country's new resolve,
Frae strength tae strength we will evolve,
As emasculated fears dissolve,
Frae oor lang night!
Aw' Scotland's flowers, we must involve,
Sae let's unite!
White heid high, chest fu o' pride,
Wi' feelings you could never hide,
Your partner's soul, there by your side,
Wi' frien's at hand,
Emotion’s surgin' like the tide,
Tae praise oor land!
Unofficial, they may call the Flower,
Hae they no' heard o' people power?
Nae gift, frae some exalted tower:-
Bit people's choice!
Sae let aw' doubters hide an' cower,
Frae Scotland's voice!
Roy may hae penned auld Scotia's song,
An' Corries sang it, loud an' long,
Bit in the he'rts o' the throne,
It found it's place,
Expressin' pride, for right or wrong,
O' aw' or race!
Aye! It recalls auld battles, past,
When Bruce's Scots, stood strong an' fast,
Sae freedom, in their land, would last,
They aw' held firm.
An' now we stand, oor die's been cast,
Their faith, confirm!
Oan Devolution’s dawn you sung,
Aw' patriotic he'rts you wrung,
Oan, weel ken't, words, their passions hung,
An' tears flowed lang,
Tae their ain anthem, Scot's hae clung,
“The Flower's” oor sang.
Roy an’ Ronnie collectively were the Corries, simply the best! A hope the poem says it aw’ as a huge thanks fir aw’ the pleasure they hae an’ still gie me!
The Corries
Oh’ for the strain o’ “Jonnie Lad”,
Baith Roy an’ Ronnie, scarlet clad,
A Corries concert, just begun,
A nicht o’ music sangs an’ fun,
Tae mak’ auld Scotia glad!
Oor he’rts would leap tae Bodhran beat,
Respond tae rhythms, strong an’ fleet,
Then jine an’ swell yon stirrin’ noise,
Tae gie it lalldy, wi’ the boys,
While keepin’ time, wi’ strampin’ feet!
Roy’s dancin’ fing’irs, fu’o’ skill,
Made music tae enthral an’ thrill.
Sangs o’ battles, grim an’ gory,
Or ramblin’ wi’ outrageous story,
We wish that we could hear him still!
Vibrantly, would Ronnie sing,
An’ mak’ auld melodies, tak’ wing,
Or clown, wi’ yon, dynamic cheek,
For laughter, he would ay’ways seek.
Oh, whit joy his voice could bring!
Voices an’ instruments would blend,
Wi’ ballads, that oor her’rts could rend.
Auld favourites, we’d anticipate,
In choruses, participate,
Their talents appreciate,
Frae start tae end!
Ower Celtic music, they would tower,
Oor Nation’s he’rt, within their power.
“Oh, wad some power” this “gift tae gie us.”
That they’d “come back,” yince mair, “tae see us.”
An’ sing again, auld Scotland’s “Flower!”
Oh’ for the strain o’ “Jonnie Lad”,
Baith Roy an’ Ronnie, scarlet clad,
A Corries concert, just begun,
A nicht o’ music sangs an’ fun,
Tae mak’ auld Scotia glad!
Oor he’rts would leap tae Bodhran beat,
Respond tae rhythms, strong an’ fleet,
Then jine an’ swell yon stirrin’ noise,
Tae gie it lalldy, wi’ the boys,
While keepin’ time, wi’ strampin’ feet!
Roy’s dancin’ fing’irs, fu’o’ skill,
Made music tae enthral an’ thrill.
Sangs o’ battles, grim an’ gory,
Or ramblin’ wi’ outrageous story,
We wish that we could hear him still!
Vibrantly, would Ronnie sing,
An’ mak’ auld melodies, tak’ wing,
Or clown, wi’ yon, dynamic cheek,
For laughter, he would ay’ways seek.
Oh, whit joy his voice could bring!
Voices an’ instruments would blend,
Wi’ ballads, that oor her’rts could rend.
Auld favourites, we’d anticipate,
In choruses, participate,
Their talents appreciate,
Frae start tae end!
Ower Celtic music, they would tower,
Oor Nation’s he’rt, within their power.
“Oh, wad some power” this “gift tae gie us.”
That they’d “come back,” yince mair, “tae see us.”
An’ sing again, auld Scotland’s “Flower!”
About the Author
Edinburgh-born Roger McKillop is a retired Sports Studies lecturer. He has been writing poetry in Scots for many years and has had his work published in The Scots Magazine. His pen name is Roger Ceann Maol Beag, which means Wee Roger with the Bald Head!