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The Red Red Rose

by Concerto Caledonia

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It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral, For the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O: Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more; And alas! I am weary, weary O: Torn from that &c. All on that charming coast is no bitter snow and frost, Like the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O: There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, And alas! I am weary, weary O: There streams &c. The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear, In the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O; And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, And alas! I am weary, weary O: And I think &c. written or collected by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
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There’s cauld kail in Aberdeen, And ca’ stocks in Stra’bogie; Gin I hae but a bony lass, Ye’re welome to your Cogie. And ye may sit up a’ the night; And drink till it be braid daylight; Gie me a lass baith clean and tight, To dance the Reel of Bogie. In Cotillons the French excel; John Bull, in Countra dances; The Spaniards dance Fandangos well, Mynheer an All mande prances: In foursome Reels the Scots delight, The Threesome maist dance wondrous light; But Twasomes ding a’ out o’ sight, Danc’d to the Reel of Bogie. Come, lads, and view your Partners well, Wale each a blythsome Rogie; I’ll tak’ this lassie to mysel, She seems sae keen and vogie: Now, Piper lad, bang up the Spring; The Countra fashion is the thing, To prie their mou’s e’re we begin To dance the Reel of Bogie. Now ilka lad has got a lass, Save yon auld doited Fogie, And ta’en a fling upo’ the grass, As they do in Stra’bogie. But a’ the lasses look sae fain, We canna think oursel’s to bain, For they maun hae their Come-again, To dance the Reel of Bogie. Now a’ the lads hae done their best, Like true men o’ Stra’bogie; We’ll stop a while and tak a rest, And tipple out a Cogie: Come now, my lads, and tak yor glass, And try ilk other to surpass, In wishing health to every lass, To dance the Reel of Bogie. Alexander, 4th Duke of Gordon (1743-1827)
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How blyth was I each morn to see, My Swain come o'er the Hill, He leap'd the burn and flew to me I met him with good will. O the broom, the bonny bonny broom, The Broom of the Cowdenknows, I wish I were with my dear Swain, With his Pipe and my Ewes. I neither wanted ewe nor lamb, When his flocks round me lay: He gather’d in my sheep at night, And chear’d me all the day. O the broom, &c. He did oblige me ev’ry hour, Cou’d I but faithful be. He stole my heart, cou’d I refuse Whate’er he ask’d of me. O, the broom, &c. Hard fate that I must banish’d be, Gang heavily and mourn, Because I lov'd the kindest swain That ever yet was born. O, the Broom, the bonny bonny broom, Where last was my repose: I wish I were with my dear swain, With his pipe and my ewes. Robert Crawford (1695-1732)
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O my love's like the red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June: O my love's like the melody, That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in love am I; And I can love thee still, my Dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; I can love thee still, my Dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my dearest love, O fare thee weel, a while. And I will come again, My Love, Tho' 'twere ten thousand mile. Robert Burns
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Now westling winds, and slaught'ring guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather; The gorcock springs, on whirring wings Amang the blooming heather. Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, Delights the weary Farmer; The moon shines bright as I rove by night To muse upon my charmer. The Pairtrick lo'es the fruitfu' fells; The Plover lo'es the mountains; The Woodcock haunts the lanely dells, The soaring Hern the fountains; Thro' lofty groves the Cushat roves, The path o' Man to shun it; The hazel bush o'erhangs the Thrush, The spreading thorn the Linnet. Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender; Some, social join, and leagues combine, Some solitary wander; Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic Man's dominion; The Sportsman's joy, the murdering cry, The flutt'ring, gory pinion. [But Peggy dear the ev’ning's clear, Thick flies the skimming swallow; The sky is blue the fields in view All fading-green and yellow; Come let us stray our gladsome way, And view the charms o’ Nature; The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, And ilka happy creature.] We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, While the silent moon shines clearly; Ye'll clasp my waist, and, fondly prest, Swear how ye lo'e me dearly! Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs, Not Autumn to the farmer, So dear can be as thou to me, My fair, my lovely charmer. Robert Burns
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Celia, by those Smiling Graces Which my panting Bosom warm, By the Heaven of thy Embraces, By they wondrous power to Charm, By those soft bewitching Glances Which my inmost bosom move, By those Lips whose Kiss entrances, Thee and Thee alone I love. By thy Godlike Art of loving, Celia with a Blush replies, By thy heavenly power of moving, All my soul to sympathize, By those eager soft Caresses, By those Arms around me thrown, By that look which Truth expresses, My fond Heart is all thy own. Thus with glowing Inclination, They indulge the tender Bliss, And to bind the lasting Passion, Seal it with a mutual Kiss, Close in fond Embraces lying They together seem to grow, Such Supream Delight enjoying, As true Lovers only know. Robert Dodsley (1703-1764)
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Reading ends in Melancholy, Wine breads Vices and Diseases; Bus’ness is Care, and Love is Folly, Wholly Freindship only pleases: Flasks, Affairs, Books and Dolly, Farewel all if Freindship ceases. Matthew Prior (1664-1721)
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When the Sheep are in the Fauld, and the Ky at hame, And a' the warl’d to Sleep are gane, The Waes o' my heart fa' in Show’rs frae my ee When my Gudeman lyes sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me well and he sought me for his bride; But saving a crown he had naething beside, To make that crown a pound my Jamie gade to Sea; And the crown and the pound were baith for me. He had nae been awa a week but only twa, When my mother she fell sick and the Cow was stown awa, My father brake his arm and my Jamie at the sea, And Auld Robin Gray came a courting me. My father couldna work and my mother couldna spin; I toil'd day and night but their bread I couldna win; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith and wi' tears in his ee Said Jenny for their saks O marry me. My heart it said nay I look'd for Jamie back, But the wind it blew high and the Ship it was a wrack, The Ship it was a wrack why didna Jenny dee? Or why do I live to say waes me. Auld Robin argued sair tho’ my mother didna speak, She look'd in my face till my heart was like to break, So they gied him my hand tho' my heart was in the sea, And Auld Robin Gray is Gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sae mournfuly at the door, I Saw my Jamies wraith for I couldna think it he, Till he said I'm come back for to marry thee. O sair did we greet, and mickle did we say, We took but ae kiss and we tore ourselves away, I wish that I were dead but I'm no like to dee, And why do I live to say waes me. I gang like a Ghaist, and I carenae to spin, I darena think on Jamie for that wad be a sin, But I'll do my best a Gudewife to be, For Auld Robin Gray is kind to me. Lady Anne Lindsay of Balcarres (1750-1825), 1772
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Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae farewell, and then for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae chearfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me. I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Naething could resist my Nancy: But to see her, was to love her; Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fareweel, Alas: for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Robert Burns

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songs and tunes from 18th-century Scotland

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released March 1, 2004

Recorded in Crichton Collegiate Church, Midlothian
Produced by Paul Baxter & David McGuinness
2016 edit: David McGuinness
2016 mastering: Stuart Hamilton at Castlesound

Tracks 1, 3, 5, 7-8, 10-11, 13, 19
Mhairi Lawson, soprano
Jamie MacDougall, tenor
Lucy Russell, Sarah Bevan-Baker, violins
Katherine McGillivray, viola, viola d’amore (19)
Alison McGillivray, cello
directed by David McGuinness, harpsichord
recorded by Tony Kime, 25-26 January 2003

Tracks 2, 4, 6, 9, 12, 14-17
David Greenberg, violin
Sarah Bevan-Baker, violin
Steve Player, guitar
Dominic O’Dell, cello
directed by David McGuinness, harpsichord
recorded by Delphian, 27 October 2002

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