Texty:
Craig Herbertson

Beneath the chandeliers Upon the Persian rugs Carousers take their stand Fine whiskey in their hands The rakes are in the halls The dugs are in t' the

O my Luve's like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my Luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie

When I've done my work of day, and I row my boat away Doun the waters of Loch Tay as the evening sun is sinking, Then I look toward Ben Lawers, where

lad That the lichtbobs I?m tae follow. Feather beds are saft, Painted rooms are bonnie; I will leave them a?, An? jog awa? wi? Johnnie. Oh, my back?s been sair, Shearin? Craigie

Here?s a health to the ladies I freely confess For grace and sweet charm they are doubly blessed Their beauty and wit never fails to impress And they

It was a cold dark morning when I bid Tranent adieu I braved the snow to Fisherow tae Stags for a pint or two Then in you walked as bold as brass wi a

As I gaed doon tae Strichen toon I met a fair maid mourning She was makin sair complaint For her true love ne'r returning Mormond Braes where heather

Child of grace you wait for me Out across the starlit see My heart's a boat You're love's a lighthouse It shines so brightly If stars could wonder They

One for the sailing ship safe cross the sea One for the Hessian's bold company One for the soldier who will follow me One for the rightful king whoever