old blind dogs feat. jonny hardie
As I got down to Turra market, Turra market for to fee
I fell in with a wealthy farmer, the barnyards of Delgaty
A linten addie toorin addie, linten addie toorin ae
Linten lowrin lowrin lowrin, the barnyards of Delgaty
He promised me the one best horse that e'er I set my eyes upon
When I got to the barnyards, there was nothing there but skin and bone
A linten addie toorin addie, linten addie toorin ae
Linten lowrin lowrin lowrin, the barnyards of Delgaty
As I go down to church on Sunday, many's the bonnie lass I see
Sitting by her mothers side, winkin' over the pews at me
A linten addie toorin addie, linten addie toorin ae
Linten lowrin lowrin lowrin, the barnyards of Delgaty
Now, I can drink and no be drunken, I can fight and no be slain
I can court with another mans lass and still be welcome to me ain
A linten addie toorin addie, linten addie toorin ae
Linten lowrin lowrin lowrin, the barnyards of Delgaty
Ah, now my candle is burnt oot, my snotter's fairly on the wane
Fare ye well ye barnyards, you'll never see me here again
A linten addie toorin addie, linten addie toorin ae
Linten lowrin lowrin lowrin, the barnyards of Delgaty
Ladne brzmienia panowie, jak widac Szkocja ma wiele do zaoferowania :)
@Olaff Pe- tego slysze pierwszy raz i jest straszny. Natomiast Henry's Cellar to jedno z ciekawszych undergroundowych miejsc w Edynburgu. Wiele miejsowych ekip tam sie pojawia, maloznanych tak jak Scrap Brain, czy Wee Baby Jesuses
ekipa z Leithu - Wee Baby Jesuses
mocniejsze brzmienie z Edynburga, znane kazdemu...
Come, bonnie lass, lie near me, an' let the brandy cheer ye
For the road frae Fife tae Falkirk's lang an' cauld an' wet an' weary
My trade, it is the weavin' in the bonnie toun o' Leven
An' we'll drink a health tae the farmers' dames wha'll buy our cloth the morn
Chorus (after each verse):
You can see them a', the lads o' the fair
Lads frae the Forth an' the Carron water
Workin' lads an' lads wi' gear
Lads wha'd sell ye the provost's dochter
Sodjers back frae the German wars
Peddlers up frae the border
An' lassies wi' an eye for mair than the kye
At the trysting fair at Falkirk
Come, Georgie, haud the pony, for the path is steep and stony
An' it's three lang weeks frae the Isle o' Skye and the beasts are thin an' bony
We'll tak the last o' the siller an' buy oursels a gill or two
An' drink to the lads wha'll buy our kye in Falkirk toun the morn
Staun hear an' I'll show ye, there's the toun below ye
But we'd best bide here in the barn the nicht, for the nightwatch dinna know ye
My brother, he's a plowman, an' I'm for the feeing now, man
An' we'll drink tae the price o' the hairvest corn in Falkirk toun the morn
The wark o' the weaver's over, likewise the days o' the drover
An' the plowboy sits on a tractor noo, too high to see the clover
The warkin's no sae steady, but the lads are aye still ready
Tae drink a health tae the working man in Falkirk toun the morn