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Cnoc an Tursa
Members | |
---|---|
Current | |
Alan Buchan | Guitars (2006-present), Vocals (lead) (2006-2015) |
Member(bands): Ruadh (live), Demonic Rising | |
Rene McDonald Hill | Guitars, Keyboards (2006-present), Vocals (lead) (2015-present) |
Member(bands): Fuath (live), Saor (live) | |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums (2007-present) |
Member(bands): Saor (live), Barshasketh | |
Tony Dunn | Bass, Vocals (clean) (2015-present) |
Member(bands): Blackwork, Falloch, Saor (live), Lost Persona | |
Past | |
Sean Cairns | Bass (2007-2009) |
David Anderson | Bass (2009-2015) |
Member(bands): Argonath, Ruadh (live), Paraffin | |
Scott Anderson | Vocals (2015) |
Member(bands): Achren, Soulgreed |
# | Discography | Type | Year | |
---|---|---|---|---|
1 | Untitled | Demo | 2008 | Show album |
2 | The Giants of Auld | Full-length | 2013 | Show album |
3 | The Forty Five | Full-length | 2017 | Show album |
Untitled
Members | |
---|---|
Alan Buchan | Vocals, Guitars |
Rene McDonald Hill | Guitars, Keyboards |
Sean Cairns | Bass |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Intro | 01:38 | |
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2. | Winter - A Dirge | 04:46 | Show lyrics |
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here firm I rest; they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want-O do Thou grant This one request of mine!- Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. |
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3. | Hail Land of My Fathers | 03:50 | Show lyrics |
Hail, land of my fathers! I stand on thy shore, ’Neath the broad-fronted bluffs of thy granite once more; Old Scotland, my mother, the rugged, the bare, That reared me with breath of the strong mountain air. No more shall I roam where soft indolence lies ’Neath the cloudless repose of the featureless skies, But where the white mist sweeps the red-furrowed scaur, I will fight with the storm and grow strong by the war! What boots all the blaze of the sky and the billow, Where manhood must rot on inglorious pillow? ’Tis the blossom that blooms from the taint of the grave, ’Tis the glitter that gildeth the bonds of the slave. But Scotland, stern mother, for struggle and toil Thou trainest thy children on hard, rocky soil; And thy stiff-purposed heroes go conquering forth, With the strength that is bred by the blasts of the north. Hail, Scotland, my mother! and welcome the day When again I shall brush the bright dew from the brae, And, light as a bird, give my foot to the heather, My hand to my staff, and my face to the weather; Then climb to the peak where the ptarmigan flies, Or stand by the linn where the salmon will rise, And vow never more with blind venture to roam From the strong land that bore me — my own Scottish home. |
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4. | Ettrick Forest in November | 04:09 | Show lyrics |
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen You scarce the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled greenwood grew, So feeble trill’d the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green, An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, foaming brown with doubled speed, Hurries its waters to the Tweed. No longer Autumn’s glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath pass’d the heather-bell That bloom’d so rich on Needpathfell; Sallow his brow; and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yair. The sheep, before the pinching heaven, To shelter’d dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines, And yet a watery sunbeam shines: In meek despondency they eye The wither’d sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their summer hill, Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But shivering follow at his heel; A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. |
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14:23 |
The Giants of Auld
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
February 25th, 2013 | Candlelight Records | CANDLE396CD | CD | |
March 26th, 2013 | Candlelight Records USA | CDL526CD | CD | |
September 5th, 2017 | Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings | Digital | Bandcamp |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Rene McDonald Hill | Guitars, Keyboards |
Alan Buchan | Vocals, Guitars |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
David Anderson | Bass |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Ivan Anthropocide | Mixing, Mastering |
Chris Fielding | Recording |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Piper o’ Dundee | 01:04 | Show lyrics |
Sons of Alba, rise in defiance of tyranny! | |||
2. | The Lion of Scotland | 04:25 | Show lyrics |
Red Lion famed and feared of old On Scotland’s battle field, The blazon of her banner fold— The ’scutcheon of her shield. Meet emblem of her heroes, whom Thou ledd’st to battle forth, And ledd’st to triumph, or a tomb, Red Lion of the North The warlike Pict, the wandering Dane, Oft thou hast made to mourn, And sterner glories dyed thy name,— The blood of Bannockburn! On later fields, in many a clime, Hast thou pawed proudly forth, Triumphant as of olden time, Red Lion of the North The chieftain’s cairn, the martyr’s grave, Where sleep the heroic dead, May ne’er the footstep of a slave, Profane them with their tread— Nor vainly may the Future see Our armed hosts go forth, Beneath St. Andrew’s cross, and thee, Red Lion of the North The ancient mind, the ancient might, Still may our hills produce, To wield the sword of Wallace wight, The battle-axe of Bruce ! The soul to love the minstrel’s lore, And prize the patriot’s worth. The spirit of the years of yore, Red Lion of the North High honour unto thine and thee, For never shalt thou wave, But from the flag-staff of the free, The banner of the brave ! And by thy glories in the past, When Scotland bears thee forth, Stand thou for freedom, first and last. Red Lion of the North |
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3. | Bannockburn | 04:44 | Show lyrics |
Unflinching foot ’gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met; The groans of those who fell Were drown’d amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang, And in the battle-yell. Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot, Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot; And O! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring Noble bled for fame, The Patriot for his country’s claim; This Knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady’s love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood, From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave, From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the Grave! |
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4. | Hail Land of My Fathers | 03:46 | Show lyrics |
Hail, land of my fathers! I stand on thy shore, ’Neath the broad-fronted bluffs of thy granite once more; Old Scotland, my mother, the rugged, the bare, That reared me with breath of the strong mountain air. No more shall I roam where soft indolence lies ’Neath the cloudless repose of the featureless skies, But where the white mist sweeps the red-furrowed scaur, I will fight with the storm and grow strong by the war! What boots all the blaze of the sky and the billow, Where manhood must rot on inglorious pillow? ’Tis the blossom that blooms from the taint of the grave, ’Tis the glitter that gildeth the bonds of the slave. But Scotland, stern mother, for struggle and toil Thou trainest thy children on hard, rocky soil; And thy stiff-purposed heroes go conquering forth, With the strength that is bred by the blasts of the north. Hail, Scotland, my mother! and welcome the day When again I shall brush the bright dew from the brae, And, light as a bird, give my foot to the heather, My hand to my staff, and my face to the weather; Then climb to the peak where the ptarmigan flies, Or stand by the linn where the salmon will rise, And vow never more with blind venture to roam From the strong land that bore me — my own Scottish home. |
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5. | Ettrick Forest in November | 04:05 | Show lyrics |
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen You scarce the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled greenwood grew, So feeble trill’d the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green, An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, foaming brown with doubled speed, Hurries its waters to the Tweed. No longer Autumn’s glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath pass’d the heather-bell That bloom’d so rich on Needpathfell; Sallow his brow; and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yair. The sheep, before the pinching heaven, To shelter’d dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines, And yet a watery sunbeam shines: In meek despondency they eye The wither’d sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their summer hill, Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But shivering follow at his heel; A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. |
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6. | The Spellbound Knight | 06:47 | Show lyrics |
Lady, darkest thou seek the shore Which never woman’s footstep bore Where beneath yon rugged steep Restless rolls the darksome deep Darkest thou though thy blood run chill Thither speed at midnight still And when horror rules the sky Rise for lover lost thy cry Darkest thou at that ghastliest hour Breathe the word of magic power Word that breaks the mermaids spell Which false lover knows too well? When affrighted specters rise Twixt pale floods and ebon skies Darkest thou reft of maiden fear Bid the water witch appear When upon the sallow tide Pearly elfin boat does glide When the mystic oar is heard Like the wing baleful bird Darkest thou with a voice of might Call upon the spell bound knight When the shallop neareth land Darkest thou with the snow white hand Boldly on the warriors breast Place the cross by churchman blest When is done this work of peril Thou hast won proud Ulster’s earl |
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7. | In Shadowland | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Between the moaning of the mountain stream And the hoarse thunder of the Atlantic deep, An outcast from the peaceful realms of sleep I lie, and hear as in a fever-dream The homeless night-wind in the darkness scream And wail around the inaccessible steep Down whose gaunt sides the spectral torrents leap From crag to crag, - till almost I could deem The plaided ghosts of buried centuries Were mustering in the glen with bow and spear And shadowy hounds to hunt the shadowy deer, Mix in phantasmal sword-play, or, with eyes Of wrath and pain immortal, wander o’er Loved scenes where human footstep comes no more. |
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8. | Winter a Dirge | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here firm I rest; they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want-O do Thou grant This one request of mine!- Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. |
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9. | Culloden Moor | 04:04 | Show lyrics |
Full of grief, the low winds sweep O’er the sorrow-haunted ground; Dark the woods where night rains weep, Dark the hills that watch around. Tell me, can the joys of spring Ever make this sadness flee, Make the woods with music ring, And the streamlet laugh for glee? When the summer moor is lit With the pale fire of the broom, And through green the shadows flit, Still shall mirth give place to gloom? Sad shall it be, though sun be shed Golden bright on field and flood; E’en the heather’s crimson red Holds the memory of blood. Here that broken, weary band Met the ruthless foe’s array, Where those moss-grown boulders stand, On that dark and fatal day. Like a phantom hope had fled, Love to death was all in vain, Vain, though heroes’ blood was shed, And though hearts were broke in twain. Many a voice has cursed the name Time has into darkness thrust, Cruelty his only fame In forgetfulness and dust. Noble dead that sleep below, We your valour ne’er forget; Soft the heroes’ rest who know Hearts like theirs are beating yet. |
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10. | Blàr na h-Eaglaise Brice | 03:17 | instrumental |
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41:11 |
The Forty Five
Album versions
Release date | Label | Catalog ID | Format | Description |
---|---|---|---|---|
February 17th, 2017 | Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings | APWO13 | CD | |
February 17th, 2017 | Apocalyptic Witchcraft Recordings | Digital | Bandcamp |
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Alan Buchan | Guitars |
Rene McDonald Hill | Vocals (lead), Guitars, Keyboards |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
Tony Dunn | Bass, Vocals (clean) |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Lasse Lammert | Recording (drums) |
Scott McLean | Mixing |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Scott Atkins | Mastering |
Jan "Örkki" Yrlund | Artwork |
Jamie Huang | Photography |
Tracks | |||
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1. | Will Ye No Come Back Again | 01:46 | instrumental |
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2. | The Yellow Locks of Charlie | 08:11 | Show lyrics |
The gathering clans, ’mong Scotia’s glens, Wi’ martial steps are bounding, And loud and lang, the wilds amang, The war pipe’s strains are sounding; The sky and stream reflect the gleam Of broadswords glancing rarely, To guard till death the hills of heath Against the foes o’ Charlie. While banners wave aboon the brave Our foemen vainly gather, And swear to claim by deeds o’ fame, Our hills and glens o’ heather. For seas shall swell to wild and fell, And crown green Appin fairly, Ere hearts so steel’d to foeman yield The rights o’ royal Charlie. Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud, And let the mountains hoary Re-echo round the warlike sound That speaks of Highland glory, For strains sublime, through future time, Shall tell the tale unsparely, How Scotland’s crown was placed aboon The yellow locks o’ Charlie. While banners wave aboon the brave Our foemen vainly gather, And swear to claim by deeds o’ fame, Our hills and glens o’ heather. For seas shall swell to wild and fell, And crown green Appin fairly, Ere hearts so steel’d to foeman yield The rights o’ royal Charlie. Then let on high the banners fly, And hearts and hands rise prouder, And wake amain the warlike strain Still louder For we ha’e sworn, ere dawn the morn O’er Appin’s mountains early Auld Scotland’s crown shall nod aboon The yellow locks o’ Charlie. |
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3. | The Standard on the Braes o’Mar | 04:27 | Show lyrics |
The standard on the Braes o’ Mar Is up and streaming rarely The gathering pipe on Lochnagar Is sounding long and sairly. The Highland men From hill and glen In martial hue With bonnets blue, With belted plaids And burnished blades Are coming late and early. Wha wadna join our noble chief The Drummond and Glengarry McGregor, Murray, Rollo, Keith, Panmure and Gallant Harry Fy! Donald, up and let’s awa, We canna langer parley, When Jammie’s back is at the wa’ The lad we lo’e sae dearly, We’ll go, we’ll go, And seek the foe And fling the plaid, And swing the blade, And forward dash, And hack and slash, And fley the German carlie! Wha wadna join our noble chief The Drummond and Glengarry And through the pass came brave Lochiel, Panmure and Gallant Murray. Our prince has made a noble vow, To free his country fairly, Then wha would be a traitor now, To ane we lo’e sae dearly, We’ll go, we’ll go and seek the foe By land or sea, wheree’er they be, Then man to man, and in the van, We’ll win or die for Charlie. McDonald’s men Clan Ranald’s men Mckenzie’s men McGillvary’s men Strathallan’s men The Lowlan’ men Of Callender and Airly |
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4. | Wha Wadna Fecht for Charlie | 06:59 | Show lyrics |
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie Wha wadna draw the sword? wha wadna up and rally At the royal Prince’s word? Think on Scotia’s ancient heroes, Think on foreign foes repell’d Think on glorious Bruce and wallace, Who the proud usurpers quelled; Wha wadna fecht for Charlie Wha wadna draw the sword? Wha wadna up and rally At the royal Prince’s word? Rouse, rouse ye kilted warriors, Rouse heroes of the North! Rouse, join our chieftain’s banners, ’Tis your Prince that leads you forth! Shall we basely crouch to tyrants? Shall we own a foreign sway? Shall a royal Stuart be banish’d While a stranger rules the day? Wha wadna fecht... See, Northern clans advancing, Glengarry and brave Lochiel: See brandished broadswords glancing! Highland hearts as true as steel, Now our Prince has raised his banner, Now triumphant is his cause, Now the Scottish lion rallies Let us strike for Prince and laws! Wha wadna fecht... |
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5. | Flora MacDonald | 02:09 | instrumental |
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6. | Sound the Pibroch | 06:50 | Show lyrics |
Sound the pibroch loud and high From John O’Groats to Isle of Skye! Let all the Clans their slogan cry And rise and follow Charlie! See a small devoted band By dark Loch Shiel have ta’en their stand And proudly vow wi’ heart and hand To fight for Royal Charlie! The White Rose blossoms forth again Deep in the sheltered Highland glens And soon we’ll hear the cry we ken Tae rise! And fight for Charlie! Frae every hill and every glen Are gatherin’ fast the loyal men They grasp their dirks and shout again Unite for Royal Charlie! No more we’ll see such deeds again Deserted is each Highland glen And lonely cairns are o’er the men Who fought and died for Charlie! Tha tighin fodham, fodham, fodham Now on the barren heath they lie Their funeral dirge the eagle cry And mountain breezes o’er them sigh Who fought and died for Charlie. |
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7. | Fuigheall | 08:56 | Show lyrics |
Did we not Beat, but recently, John Cope and Prestonpans, His infantry, Four thousand strong, and all the cavalry he had? With ninety score Militiamen picked from the mighty Gaels, We killed them and we captured them With clashing of claymore. O, waken up Full mightily Kindled with wrathful fire, And show them that thy steel’s still keen In one more battle dire! O, rise again With spirits high, And sharp swords in your hands, Wipe every dirty rebel out Who takes King George’s side! Regiments of Prince Charles Stuart Let us draw close our ranks, Well sworded, shielded, Keen to march (gang vocals) Under our flying flags, For all we’ve suffered At their hands (gang vocals) Hangings, beheadings, loot, Come, let us take our full revenge, As we would always do. Remnant that Remains of us, let us close up our ranks, With courage and With firm resolve To make our last attempt; Determined ne’er Again to turn our backs upon our foes! Let’s rise for the crown’s true heir, Now is his only hour! Did not the Roman Caesars fail To conquer us in war? And shall we then Allow these beasts To down us with their blows? Come, summon up Your mighty strength, O warlike Scotia’s sons! Let us revenge on George’s folk The royal blood of clans. |
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8. | The Last of the Stuarts | 07:33 | Show lyrics |
The last of the Stuarts has sunk in the grave, And their name and their lineage is gone; And the land of the stranger a resting place gave To him that was heir to a throne. But the noon of their glory was soon overspread, And the sun he grew dark with dismay; And the clouds of misfortune hung over their head, Till their sceptre had vanished away. Last of the Stewarts! O more for their cause shall the trumpet be blown, Nor their followers crowd to the field; Their hopes were all wreck’d when Culloden was won, And the fate of their destiny seal’d. Cold, is that heart which could stand o’er his grave, Nor think of their fate with a sigh, That the glory of kings, like a wreck from the wave, Here lone and deserted must lie. Last of the Stuarts! |
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46:51 |
The Giants of Auld
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Rene McDonald Hill | Guitars, Keyboards |
Alan Buchan | Vocals, Guitars |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
David Anderson | Bass |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Ivan Anthropocide | Mixing, Mastering |
Chris Fielding | Recording |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Piper o’ Dundee | 01:04 | Show lyrics |
Sons of Alba, rise in defiance of tyranny! | |||
2. | The Lion of Scotland | 04:25 | Show lyrics |
Red Lion famed and feared of old On Scotland’s battle field, The blazon of her banner fold— The ’scutcheon of her shield. Meet emblem of her heroes, whom Thou ledd’st to battle forth, And ledd’st to triumph, or a tomb, Red Lion of the North The warlike Pict, the wandering Dane, Oft thou hast made to mourn, And sterner glories dyed thy name,— The blood of Bannockburn! On later fields, in many a clime, Hast thou pawed proudly forth, Triumphant as of olden time, Red Lion of the North The chieftain’s cairn, the martyr’s grave, Where sleep the heroic dead, May ne’er the footstep of a slave, Profane them with their tread— Nor vainly may the Future see Our armed hosts go forth, Beneath St. Andrew’s cross, and thee, Red Lion of the North The ancient mind, the ancient might, Still may our hills produce, To wield the sword of Wallace wight, The battle-axe of Bruce ! The soul to love the minstrel’s lore, And prize the patriot’s worth. The spirit of the years of yore, Red Lion of the North High honour unto thine and thee, For never shalt thou wave, But from the flag-staff of the free, The banner of the brave ! And by thy glories in the past, When Scotland bears thee forth, Stand thou for freedom, first and last. Red Lion of the North |
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3. | Bannockburn | 04:44 | Show lyrics |
Unflinching foot ’gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met; The groans of those who fell Were drown’d amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang, And in the battle-yell. Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot, Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot; And O! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring Noble bled for fame, The Patriot for his country’s claim; This Knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady’s love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood, From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave, From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the Grave! |
|||
4. | Hail Land of My Fathers | 03:46 | Show lyrics |
Hail, land of my fathers! I stand on thy shore, ’Neath the broad-fronted bluffs of thy granite once more; Old Scotland, my mother, the rugged, the bare, That reared me with breath of the strong mountain air. No more shall I roam where soft indolence lies ’Neath the cloudless repose of the featureless skies, But where the white mist sweeps the red-furrowed scaur, I will fight with the storm and grow strong by the war! What boots all the blaze of the sky and the billow, Where manhood must rot on inglorious pillow? ’Tis the blossom that blooms from the taint of the grave, ’Tis the glitter that gildeth the bonds of the slave. But Scotland, stern mother, for struggle and toil Thou trainest thy children on hard, rocky soil; And thy stiff-purposed heroes go conquering forth, With the strength that is bred by the blasts of the north. Hail, Scotland, my mother! and welcome the day When again I shall brush the bright dew from the brae, And, light as a bird, give my foot to the heather, My hand to my staff, and my face to the weather; Then climb to the peak where the ptarmigan flies, Or stand by the linn where the salmon will rise, And vow never more with blind venture to roam From the strong land that bore me — my own Scottish home. |
|||
5. | Ettrick Forest in November | 04:05 | Show lyrics |
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen You scarce the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled greenwood grew, So feeble trill’d the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green, An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, foaming brown with doubled speed, Hurries its waters to the Tweed. No longer Autumn’s glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath pass’d the heather-bell That bloom’d so rich on Needpathfell; Sallow his brow; and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yair. The sheep, before the pinching heaven, To shelter’d dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines, And yet a watery sunbeam shines: In meek despondency they eye The wither’d sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their summer hill, Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But shivering follow at his heel; A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. |
|||
6. | The Spellbound Knight | 06:47 | Show lyrics |
Lady, darkest thou seek the shore Which never woman’s footstep bore Where beneath yon rugged steep Restless rolls the darksome deep Darkest thou though thy blood run chill Thither speed at midnight still And when horror rules the sky Rise for lover lost thy cry Darkest thou at that ghastliest hour Breathe the word of magic power Word that breaks the mermaids spell Which false lover knows too well? When affrighted specters rise Twixt pale floods and ebon skies Darkest thou reft of maiden fear Bid the water witch appear When upon the sallow tide Pearly elfin boat does glide When the mystic oar is heard Like the wing baleful bird Darkest thou with a voice of might Call upon the spell bound knight When the shallop neareth land Darkest thou with the snow white hand Boldly on the warriors breast Place the cross by churchman blest When is done this work of peril Thou hast won proud Ulster’s earl |
|||
7. | In Shadowland | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Between the moaning of the mountain stream And the hoarse thunder of the Atlantic deep, An outcast from the peaceful realms of sleep I lie, and hear as in a fever-dream The homeless night-wind in the darkness scream And wail around the inaccessible steep Down whose gaunt sides the spectral torrents leap From crag to crag, - till almost I could deem The plaided ghosts of buried centuries Were mustering in the glen with bow and spear And shadowy hounds to hunt the shadowy deer, Mix in phantasmal sword-play, or, with eyes Of wrath and pain immortal, wander o’er Loved scenes where human footstep comes no more. |
|||
8. | Winter a Dirge | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here firm I rest; they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want-O do Thou grant This one request of mine!- Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. |
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9. | Culloden Moor | 04:04 | Show lyrics |
Full of grief, the low winds sweep O’er the sorrow-haunted ground; Dark the woods where night rains weep, Dark the hills that watch around. Tell me, can the joys of spring Ever make this sadness flee, Make the woods with music ring, And the streamlet laugh for glee? When the summer moor is lit With the pale fire of the broom, And through green the shadows flit, Still shall mirth give place to gloom? Sad shall it be, though sun be shed Golden bright on field and flood; E’en the heather’s crimson red Holds the memory of blood. Here that broken, weary band Met the ruthless foe’s array, Where those moss-grown boulders stand, On that dark and fatal day. Like a phantom hope had fled, Love to death was all in vain, Vain, though heroes’ blood was shed, And though hearts were broke in twain. Many a voice has cursed the name Time has into darkness thrust, Cruelty his only fame In forgetfulness and dust. Noble dead that sleep below, We your valour ne’er forget; Soft the heroes’ rest who know Hearts like theirs are beating yet. |
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10. | Blàr na h-Eaglaise Brice | 03:17 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
41:11 |
The Giants of Auld
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Rene McDonald Hill | Guitars, Keyboards |
Alan Buchan | Vocals, Guitars |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
David Anderson | Bass |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Chris Fielding | Recording |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Ivan Anthropocide | Mixing, Mastering |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Piper o’ Dundee | 01:04 | Show lyrics |
Sons of Alba, rise in defiance of tyranny! | |||
2. | The Lion of Scotland | 04:25 | Show lyrics |
Red Lion famed and feared of old On Scotland’s battle field, The blazon of her banner fold— The ’scutcheon of her shield. Meet emblem of her heroes, whom Thou ledd’st to battle forth, And ledd’st to triumph, or a tomb, Red Lion of the North The warlike Pict, the wandering Dane, Oft thou hast made to mourn, And sterner glories dyed thy name,— The blood of Bannockburn! On later fields, in many a clime, Hast thou pawed proudly forth, Triumphant as of olden time, Red Lion of the North The chieftain’s cairn, the martyr’s grave, Where sleep the heroic dead, May ne’er the footstep of a slave, Profane them with their tread— Nor vainly may the Future see Our armed hosts go forth, Beneath St. Andrew’s cross, and thee, Red Lion of the North The ancient mind, the ancient might, Still may our hills produce, To wield the sword of Wallace wight, The battle-axe of Bruce ! The soul to love the minstrel’s lore, And prize the patriot’s worth. The spirit of the years of yore, Red Lion of the North High honour unto thine and thee, For never shalt thou wave, But from the flag-staff of the free, The banner of the brave ! And by thy glories in the past, When Scotland bears thee forth, Stand thou for freedom, first and last. Red Lion of the North |
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3. | Bannockburn | 04:44 | Show lyrics |
Unflinching foot ’gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met; The groans of those who fell Were drown’d amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang, And in the battle-yell. Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot, Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot; And O! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring Noble bled for fame, The Patriot for his country’s claim; This Knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady’s love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood, From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave, From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the Grave! |
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4. | Hail Land of My Fathers | 03:46 | Show lyrics |
Hail, land of my fathers! I stand on thy shore, ’Neath the broad-fronted bluffs of thy granite once more; Old Scotland, my mother, the rugged, the bare, That reared me with breath of the strong mountain air. No more shall I roam where soft indolence lies ’Neath the cloudless repose of the featureless skies, But where the white mist sweeps the red-furrowed scaur, I will fight with the storm and grow strong by the war! What boots all the blaze of the sky and the billow, Where manhood must rot on inglorious pillow? ’Tis the blossom that blooms from the taint of the grave, ’Tis the glitter that gildeth the bonds of the slave. But Scotland, stern mother, for struggle and toil Thou trainest thy children on hard, rocky soil; And thy stiff-purposed heroes go conquering forth, With the strength that is bred by the blasts of the north. Hail, Scotland, my mother! and welcome the day When again I shall brush the bright dew from the brae, And, light as a bird, give my foot to the heather, My hand to my staff, and my face to the weather; Then climb to the peak where the ptarmigan flies, Or stand by the linn where the salmon will rise, And vow never more with blind venture to roam From the strong land that bore me — my own Scottish home. |
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5. | Ettrick Forest in November | 04:05 | Show lyrics |
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen You scarce the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled greenwood grew, So feeble trill’d the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green, An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, foaming brown with doubled speed, Hurries its waters to the Tweed. No longer Autumn’s glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath pass’d the heather-bell That bloom’d so rich on Needpathfell; Sallow his brow; and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yair. The sheep, before the pinching heaven, To shelter’d dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines, And yet a watery sunbeam shines: In meek despondency they eye The wither’d sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their summer hill, Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But shivering follow at his heel; A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. |
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6. | The Spellbound Knight | 06:47 | Show lyrics |
Lady, darkest thou seek the shore Which never woman’s footstep bore Where beneath yon rugged steep Restless rolls the darksome deep Darkest thou though thy blood run chill Thither speed at midnight still And when horror rules the sky Rise for lover lost thy cry Darkest thou at that ghastliest hour Breathe the word of magic power Word that breaks the mermaids spell Which false lover knows too well? When affrighted specters rise Twixt pale floods and ebon skies Darkest thou reft of maiden fear Bid the water witch appear When upon the sallow tide Pearly elfin boat does glide When the mystic oar is heard Like the wing baleful bird Darkest thou with a voice of might Call upon the spell bound knight When the shallop neareth land Darkest thou with the snow white hand Boldly on the warriors breast Place the cross by churchman blest When is done this work of peril Thou hast won proud Ulster’s earl |
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7. | In Shadowland | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Between the moaning of the mountain stream And the hoarse thunder of the Atlantic deep, An outcast from the peaceful realms of sleep I lie, and hear as in a fever-dream The homeless night-wind in the darkness scream And wail around the inaccessible steep Down whose gaunt sides the spectral torrents leap From crag to crag, - till almost I could deem The plaided ghosts of buried centuries Were mustering in the glen with bow and spear And shadowy hounds to hunt the shadowy deer, Mix in phantasmal sword-play, or, with eyes Of wrath and pain immortal, wander o’er Loved scenes where human footstep comes no more. |
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8. | Winter a Dirge | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here firm I rest; they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want-O do Thou grant This one request of mine!- Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. |
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9. | Culloden Moor | 04:04 | Show lyrics |
Full of grief, the low winds sweep O’er the sorrow-haunted ground; Dark the woods where night rains weep, Dark the hills that watch around. Tell me, can the joys of spring Ever make this sadness flee, Make the woods with music ring, And the streamlet laugh for glee? When the summer moor is lit With the pale fire of the broom, And through green the shadows flit, Still shall mirth give place to gloom? Sad shall it be, though sun be shed Golden bright on field and flood; E’en the heather’s crimson red Holds the memory of blood. Here that broken, weary band Met the ruthless foe’s array, Where those moss-grown boulders stand, On that dark and fatal day. Like a phantom hope had fled, Love to death was all in vain, Vain, though heroes’ blood was shed, And though hearts were broke in twain. Many a voice has cursed the name Time has into darkness thrust, Cruelty his only fame In forgetfulness and dust. Noble dead that sleep below, We your valour ne’er forget; Soft the heroes’ rest who know Hearts like theirs are beating yet. |
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10. | Blàr na h-Eaglaise Brice | 03:17 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
41:11 |
The Giants of Auld
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Rene McDonald Hill | Guitars, Keyboards |
Alan Buchan | Vocals, Guitars |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
David Anderson | Bass |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Chris Fielding | Recording |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Ivan Anthropocide | Mixing, Mastering |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | The Piper o’ Dundee | 01:04 | Show lyrics |
Sons of Alba, rise in defiance of tyranny! | |||
2. | The Lion of Scotland | 04:25 | Show lyrics |
Red Lion famed and feared of old On Scotland’s battle field, The blazon of her banner fold— The ’scutcheon of her shield. Meet emblem of her heroes, whom Thou ledd’st to battle forth, And ledd’st to triumph, or a tomb, Red Lion of the North The warlike Pict, the wandering Dane, Oft thou hast made to mourn, And sterner glories dyed thy name,— The blood of Bannockburn! On later fields, in many a clime, Hast thou pawed proudly forth, Triumphant as of olden time, Red Lion of the North The chieftain’s cairn, the martyr’s grave, Where sleep the heroic dead, May ne’er the footstep of a slave, Profane them with their tread— Nor vainly may the Future see Our armed hosts go forth, Beneath St. Andrew’s cross, and thee, Red Lion of the North The ancient mind, the ancient might, Still may our hills produce, To wield the sword of Wallace wight, The battle-axe of Bruce ! The soul to love the minstrel’s lore, And prize the patriot’s worth. The spirit of the years of yore, Red Lion of the North High honour unto thine and thee, For never shalt thou wave, But from the flag-staff of the free, The banner of the brave ! And by thy glories in the past, When Scotland bears thee forth, Stand thou for freedom, first and last. Red Lion of the North |
|||
3. | Bannockburn | 04:44 | Show lyrics |
Unflinching foot ’gainst foot was set, Unceasing blow by blow was met; The groans of those who fell Were drown’d amid the shriller clang That from the blades and harness rang, And in the battle-yell. Yet fast they fell, unheard, forgot, Both Southern fierce and hardy Scot; And O! amid that waste of life, What various motives fired the strife! The aspiring Noble bled for fame, The Patriot for his country’s claim; This Knight his youthful strength to prove, And that to win his lady’s love; Some fought from ruffian thirst of blood, From habit some, or hardihood. But ruffian stern, and soldier good, The noble and the slave, From various cause the same wild road, On the same bloody morning, trode, To that dark inn, the Grave! |
|||
4. | Hail Land of My Fathers | 03:46 | Show lyrics |
Hail, land of my fathers! I stand on thy shore, ’Neath the broad-fronted bluffs of thy granite once more; Old Scotland, my mother, the rugged, the bare, That reared me with breath of the strong mountain air. No more shall I roam where soft indolence lies ’Neath the cloudless repose of the featureless skies, But where the white mist sweeps the red-furrowed scaur, I will fight with the storm and grow strong by the war! What boots all the blaze of the sky and the billow, Where manhood must rot on inglorious pillow? ’Tis the blossom that blooms from the taint of the grave, ’Tis the glitter that gildeth the bonds of the slave. But Scotland, stern mother, for struggle and toil Thou trainest thy children on hard, rocky soil; And thy stiff-purposed heroes go conquering forth, With the strength that is bred by the blasts of the north. Hail, Scotland, my mother! and welcome the day When again I shall brush the bright dew from the brae, And, light as a bird, give my foot to the heather, My hand to my staff, and my face to the weather; Then climb to the peak where the ptarmigan flies, Or stand by the linn where the salmon will rise, And vow never more with blind venture to roam From the strong land that bore me — my own Scottish home. |
|||
5. | Ettrick Forest in November | 04:05 | Show lyrics |
November’s sky is chill and drear, November’s leaf is red and sear: Late, gazing down the steepy linn, That hems our little garden in, Low in its dark and narrow glen You scarce the rivulet might ken, So thick the tangled greenwood grew, So feeble trill’d the streamlet through: Now, murmuring hoarse, and frequent seen Through bush and brier, no longer green, An angry brook, it sweeps the glade, Brawls over rock and wild cascade, And, foaming brown with doubled speed, Hurries its waters to the Tweed. No longer Autumn’s glowing red Upon our Forest hills is shed; No more beneath the evening beam Fair Tweed reflects their purple gleam; Away hath pass’d the heather-bell That bloom’d so rich on Needpathfell; Sallow his brow; and russet bare Are now the sister-heights of Yair. The sheep, before the pinching heaven, To shelter’d dale and down are driven, Where yet some faded herbage pines, And yet a watery sunbeam shines: In meek despondency they eye The wither’d sward and wintry sky, And far beneath their summer hill, Stray sadly by Glenkinnon’s rill: The shepherd shifts his mantle’s fold, And wraps him closer from the cold; His dogs no merry circles wheel, But shivering follow at his heel; A cowering glance they often cast, As deeper moans the gathering blast. |
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6. | The Spellbound Knight | 06:47 | Show lyrics |
Lady, darkest thou seek the shore Which never woman’s footstep bore Where beneath yon rugged steep Restless rolls the darksome deep Darkest thou though thy blood run chill Thither speed at midnight still And when horror rules the sky Rise for lover lost thy cry Darkest thou at that ghastliest hour Breathe the word of magic power Word that breaks the mermaids spell Which false lover knows too well? When affrighted specters rise Twixt pale floods and ebon skies Darkest thou reft of maiden fear Bid the water witch appear When upon the sallow tide Pearly elfin boat does glide When the mystic oar is heard Like the wing baleful bird Darkest thou with a voice of might Call upon the spell bound knight When the shallop neareth land Darkest thou with the snow white hand Boldly on the warriors breast Place the cross by churchman blest When is done this work of peril Thou hast won proud Ulster’s earl |
|||
7. | In Shadowland | 04:20 | Show lyrics |
Between the moaning of the mountain stream And the hoarse thunder of the Atlantic deep, An outcast from the peaceful realms of sleep I lie, and hear as in a fever-dream The homeless night-wind in the darkness scream And wail around the inaccessible steep Down whose gaunt sides the spectral torrents leap From crag to crag, - till almost I could deem The plaided ghosts of buried centuries Were mustering in the glen with bow and spear And shadowy hounds to hunt the shadowy deer, Mix in phantasmal sword-play, or, with eyes Of wrath and pain immortal, wander o’er Loved scenes where human footstep comes no more. |
|||
8. | Winter a Dirge | 04:39 | Show lyrics |
The wintry west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. "The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast," The joyless winter day Let others fear, to me more dear Than all the pride of May: The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please, Their fate resembles mine! Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil, Here firm I rest; they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want-O do Thou grant This one request of mine!- Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, Assist me to resign. |
|||
9. | Culloden Moor | 04:04 | Show lyrics |
Full of grief, the low winds sweep O’er the sorrow-haunted ground; Dark the woods where night rains weep, Dark the hills that watch around. Tell me, can the joys of spring Ever make this sadness flee, Make the woods with music ring, And the streamlet laugh for glee? When the summer moor is lit With the pale fire of the broom, And through green the shadows flit, Still shall mirth give place to gloom? Sad shall it be, though sun be shed Golden bright on field and flood; E’en the heather’s crimson red Holds the memory of blood. Here that broken, weary band Met the ruthless foe’s array, Where those moss-grown boulders stand, On that dark and fatal day. Like a phantom hope had fled, Love to death was all in vain, Vain, though heroes’ blood was shed, And though hearts were broke in twain. Many a voice has cursed the name Time has into darkness thrust, Cruelty his only fame In forgetfulness and dust. Noble dead that sleep below, We your valour ne’er forget; Soft the heroes’ rest who know Hearts like theirs are beating yet. |
|||
10. | Blàr na h-Eaglaise Brice | 03:17 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
41:11 |
The Forty Five
Members | |
---|---|
Band members | |
Alan Buchan | Guitars |
Rene McDonald Hill | Vocals (lead), Guitars, Keyboards |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
Tony Dunn | Bass, Vocals (clean) |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Lasse Lammert | Recording (drums) |
Scott McLean | Mixing |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Scott Atkins | Mastering |
Jan "Örkki" Yrlund | Artwork |
Jamie Huang | Photography |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Will Ye No Come Back Again | 01:46 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | The Yellow Locks of Charlie | 08:11 | Show lyrics |
The gathering clans, ’mong Scotia’s glens, Wi’ martial steps are bounding, And loud and lang, the wilds amang, The war pipe’s strains are sounding; The sky and stream reflect the gleam Of broadswords glancing rarely, To guard till death the hills of heath Against the foes o’ Charlie. While banners wave aboon the brave Our foemen vainly gather, And swear to claim by deeds o’ fame, Our hills and glens o’ heather. For seas shall swell to wild and fell, And crown green Appin fairly, Ere hearts so steel’d to foeman yield The rights o’ royal Charlie. Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud, And let the mountains hoary Re-echo round the warlike sound That speaks of Highland glory, For strains sublime, through future time, Shall tell the tale unsparely, How Scotland’s crown was placed aboon The yellow locks o’ Charlie. While banners wave aboon the brave Our foemen vainly gather, And swear to claim by deeds o’ fame, Our hills and glens o’ heather. For seas shall swell to wild and fell, And crown green Appin fairly, Ere hearts so steel’d to foeman yield The rights o’ royal Charlie. Then let on high the banners fly, And hearts and hands rise prouder, And wake amain the warlike strain Still louder For we ha’e sworn, ere dawn the morn O’er Appin’s mountains early Auld Scotland’s crown shall nod aboon The yellow locks o’ Charlie. |
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3. | The Standard on the Braes o’Mar | 04:27 | Show lyrics |
The standard on the Braes o’ Mar Is up and streaming rarely The gathering pipe on Lochnagar Is sounding long and sairly. The Highland men From hill and glen In martial hue With bonnets blue, With belted plaids And burnished blades Are coming late and early. Wha wadna join our noble chief The Drummond and Glengarry McGregor, Murray, Rollo, Keith, Panmure and Gallant Harry Fy! Donald, up and let’s awa, We canna langer parley, When Jammie’s back is at the wa’ The lad we lo’e sae dearly, We’ll go, we’ll go, And seek the foe And fling the plaid, And swing the blade, And forward dash, And hack and slash, And fley the German carlie! Wha wadna join our noble chief The Drummond and Glengarry And through the pass came brave Lochiel, Panmure and Gallant Murray. Our prince has made a noble vow, To free his country fairly, Then wha would be a traitor now, To ane we lo’e sae dearly, We’ll go, we’ll go and seek the foe By land or sea, wheree’er they be, Then man to man, and in the van, We’ll win or die for Charlie. McDonald’s men Clan Ranald’s men Mckenzie’s men McGillvary’s men Strathallan’s men The Lowlan’ men Of Callender and Airly |
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4. | Wha Wadna Fecht for Charlie | 06:59 | Show lyrics |
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie Wha wadna draw the sword? wha wadna up and rally At the royal Prince’s word? Think on Scotia’s ancient heroes, Think on foreign foes repell’d Think on glorious Bruce and wallace, Who the proud usurpers quelled; Wha wadna fecht for Charlie Wha wadna draw the sword? Wha wadna up and rally At the royal Prince’s word? Rouse, rouse ye kilted warriors, Rouse heroes of the North! Rouse, join our chieftain’s banners, ’Tis your Prince that leads you forth! Shall we basely crouch to tyrants? Shall we own a foreign sway? Shall a royal Stuart be banish’d While a stranger rules the day? Wha wadna fecht... See, Northern clans advancing, Glengarry and brave Lochiel: See brandished broadswords glancing! Highland hearts as true as steel, Now our Prince has raised his banner, Now triumphant is his cause, Now the Scottish lion rallies Let us strike for Prince and laws! Wha wadna fecht... |
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5. | Flora MacDonald | 02:09 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | Sound the Pibroch | 06:50 | Show lyrics |
Sound the pibroch loud and high From John O’Groats to Isle of Skye! Let all the Clans their slogan cry And rise and follow Charlie! See a small devoted band By dark Loch Shiel have ta’en their stand And proudly vow wi’ heart and hand To fight for Royal Charlie! The White Rose blossoms forth again Deep in the sheltered Highland glens And soon we’ll hear the cry we ken Tae rise! And fight for Charlie! Frae every hill and every glen Are gatherin’ fast the loyal men They grasp their dirks and shout again Unite for Royal Charlie! No more we’ll see such deeds again Deserted is each Highland glen And lonely cairns are o’er the men Who fought and died for Charlie! Tha tighin fodham, fodham, fodham Now on the barren heath they lie Their funeral dirge the eagle cry And mountain breezes o’er them sigh Who fought and died for Charlie. |
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7. | Fuigheall | 08:56 | Show lyrics |
Did we not Beat, but recently, John Cope and Prestonpans, His infantry, Four thousand strong, and all the cavalry he had? With ninety score Militiamen picked from the mighty Gaels, We killed them and we captured them With clashing of claymore. O, waken up Full mightily Kindled with wrathful fire, And show them that thy steel’s still keen In one more battle dire! O, rise again With spirits high, And sharp swords in your hands, Wipe every dirty rebel out Who takes King George’s side! Regiments of Prince Charles Stuart Let us draw close our ranks, Well sworded, shielded, Keen to march (gang vocals) Under our flying flags, For all we’ve suffered At their hands (gang vocals) Hangings, beheadings, loot, Come, let us take our full revenge, As we would always do. Remnant that Remains of us, let us close up our ranks, With courage and With firm resolve To make our last attempt; Determined ne’er Again to turn our backs upon our foes! Let’s rise for the crown’s true heir, Now is his only hour! Did not the Roman Caesars fail To conquer us in war? And shall we then Allow these beasts To down us with their blows? Come, summon up Your mighty strength, O warlike Scotia’s sons! Let us revenge on George’s folk The royal blood of clans. |
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8. | The Last of the Stuarts | 07:33 | Show lyrics |
The last of the Stuarts has sunk in the grave, And their name and their lineage is gone; And the land of the stranger a resting place gave To him that was heir to a throne. But the noon of their glory was soon overspread, And the sun he grew dark with dismay; And the clouds of misfortune hung over their head, Till their sceptre had vanished away. Last of the Stewarts! O more for their cause shall the trumpet be blown, Nor their followers crowd to the field; Their hopes were all wreck’d when Culloden was won, And the fate of their destiny seal’d. Cold, is that heart which could stand o’er his grave, Nor think of their fate with a sigh, That the glory of kings, like a wreck from the wave, Here lone and deserted must lie. Last of the Stuarts! |
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46:51 |
The Forty Five
Members | |
---|---|
Original line-up | |
Band members | |
Alan Buchan | Guitars |
Rene McDonald Hill | Vocals (lead), Guitars, Keyboards |
Bryan Hamilton | Drums |
Tony Dunn | Bass, Vocals (clean) |
Miscellaneous staff | |
Christophe "Volvox" Szpajdel | Logo |
Lasse Lammert | Recording (drums) |
Scott McLean | Mixing |
Scott Atkins | Mastering |
Jan "Örkki" Yrlund | Artwork |
Jamie Huang | Photography |
Tracks | |||
---|---|---|---|
1. | Will Ye No Come Back Again | 01:46 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
2. | The Yellow Locks of Charlie | 08:11 | Show lyrics |
The gathering clans, ’mong Scotia’s glens, Wi’ martial steps are bounding, And loud and lang, the wilds amang, The war pipe’s strains are sounding; The sky and stream reflect the gleam Of broadswords glancing rarely, To guard till death the hills of heath Against the foes o’ Charlie. While banners wave aboon the brave Our foemen vainly gather, And swear to claim by deeds o’ fame, Our hills and glens o’ heather. For seas shall swell to wild and fell, And crown green Appin fairly, Ere hearts so steel’d to foeman yield The rights o’ royal Charlie. Then wake mair loud the pibroch proud, And let the mountains hoary Re-echo round the warlike sound That speaks of Highland glory, For strains sublime, through future time, Shall tell the tale unsparely, How Scotland’s crown was placed aboon The yellow locks o’ Charlie. While banners wave aboon the brave Our foemen vainly gather, And swear to claim by deeds o’ fame, Our hills and glens o’ heather. For seas shall swell to wild and fell, And crown green Appin fairly, Ere hearts so steel’d to foeman yield The rights o’ royal Charlie. Then let on high the banners fly, And hearts and hands rise prouder, And wake amain the warlike strain Still louder For we ha’e sworn, ere dawn the morn O’er Appin’s mountains early Auld Scotland’s crown shall nod aboon The yellow locks o’ Charlie. |
|||
3. | The Standard on the Braes o’Mar | 04:27 | Show lyrics |
The standard on the Braes o’ Mar Is up and streaming rarely The gathering pipe on Lochnagar Is sounding long and sairly. The Highland men From hill and glen In martial hue With bonnets blue, With belted plaids And burnished blades Are coming late and early. Wha wadna join our noble chief The Drummond and Glengarry McGregor, Murray, Rollo, Keith, Panmure and Gallant Harry Fy! Donald, up and let’s awa, We canna langer parley, When Jammie’s back is at the wa’ The lad we lo’e sae dearly, We’ll go, we’ll go, And seek the foe And fling the plaid, And swing the blade, And forward dash, And hack and slash, And fley the German carlie! Wha wadna join our noble chief The Drummond and Glengarry And through the pass came brave Lochiel, Panmure and Gallant Murray. Our prince has made a noble vow, To free his country fairly, Then wha would be a traitor now, To ane we lo’e sae dearly, We’ll go, we’ll go and seek the foe By land or sea, wheree’er they be, Then man to man, and in the van, We’ll win or die for Charlie. McDonald’s men Clan Ranald’s men Mckenzie’s men McGillvary’s men Strathallan’s men The Lowlan’ men Of Callender and Airly |
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4. | Wha Wadna Fecht for Charlie | 06:59 | Show lyrics |
Wha wadna fecht for Charlie Wha wadna draw the sword? wha wadna up and rally At the royal Prince’s word? Think on Scotia’s ancient heroes, Think on foreign foes repell’d Think on glorious Bruce and wallace, Who the proud usurpers quelled; Wha wadna fecht for Charlie Wha wadna draw the sword? Wha wadna up and rally At the royal Prince’s word? Rouse, rouse ye kilted warriors, Rouse heroes of the North! Rouse, join our chieftain’s banners, ’Tis your Prince that leads you forth! Shall we basely crouch to tyrants? Shall we own a foreign sway? Shall a royal Stuart be banish’d While a stranger rules the day? Wha wadna fecht... See, Northern clans advancing, Glengarry and brave Lochiel: See brandished broadswords glancing! Highland hearts as true as steel, Now our Prince has raised his banner, Now triumphant is his cause, Now the Scottish lion rallies Let us strike for Prince and laws! Wha wadna fecht... |
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5. | Flora MacDonald | 02:09 | instrumental |
(loading lyrics...) | |||
6. | Sound the Pibroch | 06:50 | Show lyrics |
Sound the pibroch loud and high From John O’Groats to Isle of Skye! Let all the Clans their slogan cry And rise and follow Charlie! See a small devoted band By dark Loch Shiel have ta’en their stand And proudly vow wi’ heart and hand To fight for Royal Charlie! The White Rose blossoms forth again Deep in the sheltered Highland glens And soon we’ll hear the cry we ken Tae rise! And fight for Charlie! Frae every hill and every glen Are gatherin’ fast the loyal men They grasp their dirks and shout again Unite for Royal Charlie! No more we’ll see such deeds again Deserted is each Highland glen And lonely cairns are o’er the men Who fought and died for Charlie! Tha tighin fodham, fodham, fodham Now on the barren heath they lie Their funeral dirge the eagle cry And mountain breezes o’er them sigh Who fought and died for Charlie. |
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7. | Fuigheall | 08:56 | Show lyrics |
Did we not Beat, but recently, John Cope and Prestonpans, His infantry, Four thousand strong, and all the cavalry he had? With ninety score Militiamen picked from the mighty Gaels, We killed them and we captured them With clashing of claymore. O, waken up Full mightily Kindled with wrathful fire, And show them that thy steel’s still keen In one more battle dire! O, rise again With spirits high, And sharp swords in your hands, Wipe every dirty rebel out Who takes King George’s side! Regiments of Prince Charles Stuart Let us draw close our ranks, Well sworded, shielded, Keen to march (gang vocals) Under our flying flags, For all we’ve suffered At their hands (gang vocals) Hangings, beheadings, loot, Come, let us take our full revenge, As we would always do. Remnant that Remains of us, let us close up our ranks, With courage and With firm resolve To make our last attempt; Determined ne’er Again to turn our backs upon our foes! Let’s rise for the crown’s true heir, Now is his only hour! Did not the Roman Caesars fail To conquer us in war? And shall we then Allow these beasts To down us with their blows? Come, summon up Your mighty strength, O warlike Scotia’s sons! Let us revenge on George’s folk The royal blood of clans. |
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8. | The Last of the Stuarts | 07:33 | Show lyrics |
The last of the Stuarts has sunk in the grave, And their name and their lineage is gone; And the land of the stranger a resting place gave To him that was heir to a throne. But the noon of their glory was soon overspread, And the sun he grew dark with dismay; And the clouds of misfortune hung over their head, Till their sceptre had vanished away. Last of the Stewarts! O more for their cause shall the trumpet be blown, Nor their followers crowd to the field; Their hopes were all wreck’d when Culloden was won, And the fate of their destiny seal’d. Cold, is that heart which could stand o’er his grave, Nor think of their fate with a sigh, That the glory of kings, like a wreck from the wave, Here lone and deserted must lie. Last of the Stuarts! |
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46:51 |
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