Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne With a Memoir and Poems of Caroline Oliphant the Younger: Edited by the Rev. Charles Rogers ... With a Portrait and Other Illustrations |
 |
THE BOAT SONG O' THE CLYDE. |
 |
 | Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne |  |
113
THE BOAT SONG O' THE CLYDE.
Row, row, ye sailors brave!
Row, regardless of the wave,
Fearless, tho' a tempest blow,
Down the Clyde we'll go, we'll go.
And oh, what bustle, and what din,
Afore the folk can a' win in,
The bairnies, gentry, great and sma',
Are blythe to leave the Broomielaw.
Row, row, ye sailors brave!
Row, regardless of the wave;
Fearless tho' a tempest blow,
Down the Clyde we'll go, we'll go.
Row, regardless of the wave,
Fearless, tho' a tempest blow,
Down the Clyde we'll go, we'll go.
And oh, what bustle, and what din,
Afore the folk can a' win in,
The bairnies, gentry, great and sma',
Are blythe to leave the Broomielaw.
Row, row, ye sailors brave!
Row, regardless of the wave;
Fearless tho' a tempest blow,
Down the Clyde we'll go, we'll go.
Countless boats and steamers ply,
Flags frae every nation fly,
Wi' pipers, fiddlers, noise, and clatter,
Doun we a' gang, doun the water!
An' oh! how sweet, in flow'ry June,
To leave auld Glasgow's smoky toun,
Wi' cloudless sky, an' fav'ring gale,
Doun the bonny Clyde to sail!
Row, row, &c.
Flags frae every nation fly,
Wi' pipers, fiddlers, noise, and clatter,
Doun we a' gang, doun the water!
An' oh! how sweet, in flow'ry June,
To leave auld Glasgow's smoky toun,
Wi' cloudless sky, an' fav'ring gale,
Doun the bonny Clyde to sail!
Row, row, &c.
114
What stately mansions come in view,
Elderslie and Scotston too,
Blythswood, on her lawn sae green,
Where Cart and Clyde are mingling seen.
An' oh! how fair on every side,
Spread the waters o' the Clyde,
Where Blantyre's noble woods appear,
Reflected in her waters clear.
Row, row, &c.
Elderslie and Scotston too,
Blythswood, on her lawn sae green,
Where Cart and Clyde are mingling seen.
An' oh! how fair on every side,
Spread the waters o' the Clyde,
Where Blantyre's noble woods appear,
Reflected in her waters clear.
Row, row, &c.
The wee waves ripple as they pass
The ivy'd wa's o' auld Dunglass;
Dumbarton Castle brave doth stand,
An' overlooks baith sea an' land!
The woods embow'ring half do hide
Ardgowan, in its beauty's pride,
An' Kelly House looks sweetly doun,
On wooded braes an' yellow broom.
Row, row, &c.
The ivy'd wa's o' auld Dunglass;
Dumbarton Castle brave doth stand,
An' overlooks baith sea an' land!
The woods embow'ring half do hide
Ardgowan, in its beauty's pride,
An' Kelly House looks sweetly doun,
On wooded braes an' yellow broom.
Row, row, &c.
Sailing on to Rothesay Bay,
Where sunbeams o'er the Cumbraes play
Or thro' the wooded straits o' Kyle,
Where rocks on rocks fantastic pile.
Nature's pencil never drew,
Aught mair charming than the view
Where sun and shadow ever change,
O'er that Hieland mountain range!
Row, row, &c.
Where sunbeams o'er the Cumbraes play
Or thro' the wooded straits o' Kyle,
Where rocks on rocks fantastic pile.
Nature's pencil never drew,
Aught mair charming than the view
Where sun and shadow ever change,
O'er that Hieland mountain range!
Row, row, &c.
115
How soft an' grand in azure hue,
Arran's peakèd hills we view;
Oh, what are all Italia's dyes,
To Scotland's cloudy sunset skies!
Ye talk o' charms o' foreign clime,
O' a' the beauties o' the Rhine;
They may a' be grand an' fine,
But oh, they'll ne'er compare wi' thine.
Row, row, &c.
Arran's peakèd hills we view;
Oh, what are all Italia's dyes,
To Scotland's cloudy sunset skies!
Ye talk o' charms o' foreign clime,
O' a' the beauties o' the Rhine;
They may a' be grand an' fine,
But oh, they'll ne'er compare wi' thine.
Row, row, &c.
Fair Roseneath, the mountains' screen,
'Neath Argyle's rude bowling green,
'Mang heath, and rocks, and moss, and fell,
Where eagles and the wild deer dwell!
Sail we up, or sail we doun,
By Kilmun, or sweet Dunoon,
By Ardincaple, or the Row,
By Gairloch an' her mountain blue!
Row, row, &c.
'Neath Argyle's rude bowling green,
'Mang heath, and rocks, and moss, and fell,
Where eagles and the wild deer dwell!
Sail we up, or sail we doun,
By Kilmun, or sweet Dunoon,
By Ardincaple, or the Row,
By Gairloch an' her mountain blue!
Row, row, &c.
The Holy Loch, where buried lie,
All that could o' Martyrs die,
Where the auld trees mournfu' wave,
Owre the Covenanters' grave!
Sequestered yont dark Cowal hill,
Thy waters, Echt, lie deep an' still,
Thy rocks and woods reflected there,
Wi' water lilies spreading fair.
Row, row, &c.
All that could o' Martyrs die,
Where the auld trees mournfu' wave,
Owre the Covenanters' grave!
Sequestered yont dark Cowal hill,
Thy waters, Echt, lie deep an' still,
Thy rocks and woods reflected there,
Wi' water lilies spreading fair.
Row, row, &c.
116
How many lovely scenes are thine,
Inverary and Loch Fine!
Loch Goil, Artinee, and Loch Long,
A' are worthy of a song.
Loch Lomond and the sweet Rossdhu,
Tarbet's boats wi' herrin' fu';
O, let a gratefu' thought arise
To Him who sends our rich supplies.
Row, row, &c.
Inverary and Loch Fine!
Loch Goil, Artinee, and Loch Long,
A' are worthy of a song.
Loch Lomond and the sweet Rossdhu,
Tarbet's boats wi' herrin' fu';
O, let a gratefu' thought arise
To Him who sends our rich supplies.
Row, row, &c.
Who has not felt the soothing power
O' Scotia's calm and gloamin' hour,
When, closed the eye of garish day,
The moonbeams on the waters play?
The Largs, and bonnie Fairlie lay
In the hues of parting day;
The shadows gath'ring o'er Wemyss Bay,
The sailors shout—Away, away.
Row, row, &c.
O' Scotia's calm and gloamin' hour,
When, closed the eye of garish day,
The moonbeams on the waters play?
The Largs, and bonnie Fairlie lay
In the hues of parting day;
The shadows gath'ring o'er Wemyss Bay,
The sailors shout—Away, away.
Row, row, &c.
Auld Clyde, ye mony sights ha'e seen,
Scenes o' joy and grief, I ween;
A' kinds o' folk on Clyde ha'e been,
An' last, not least, Hail! comes the Queen!
Fareweel, fareweel, auld Clyde to thee,
Enchanting is thy scenery!
Were I to tell your beauties a',
My sang could hae nae end at a'!
Row, row, ye sailors brave,
Row, regardless of the wave;
Fearless, though a tempest blow,
Down the Clyde we'll go, we'll go.
Scenes o' joy and grief, I ween;
A' kinds o' folk on Clyde ha'e been,
An' last, not least, Hail! comes the Queen!
Fareweel, fareweel, auld Clyde to thee,
Enchanting is thy scenery!
Were I to tell your beauties a',
My sang could hae nae end at a'!
Row, row, ye sailors brave,
Row, regardless of the wave;
Fearless, though a tempest blow,
Down the Clyde we'll go, we'll go.
| Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne | |