The Black Douglas

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Comment by William Douglas on January 30, 2012 at 15:26

There was a man sae dark and true wha Scotland loo-ed sae dear There was a king wha lang will rue the Scots wha flayed him sair Gan cry the hounds o Douglasvale, gan string the Ettrick bow Gan warn the spears o Liddiesdale that Edward leads the foe

He wore the cross our Andrew bore by the steps o calvary He won the sword our Robert wore by the field o Balvennie Gan shear the chains o slavery, gan dance my leige man lee Gan ring the bell o Liberty shod wi the metal free

He won his spurs doon by St. Bride upon the green she free He held the leopard and the tide by the field o Lintounie Gan shine the shield yer father bore, gan strike yer metal free Gan shine the helm yer father wore by the field of Torwoodlee

He rode yin nicht when it was mirk doon by the leopards lair He chased the tyrant in his shirt around the field sae fair Gan pack yer bags ye English loons, gan tak ye banners hame Gan tak yer king wha sought oor croon and lost the bloody game

Comment by William Douglas on January 30, 2012 at 15:25

Another version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Mh374DS2ZY

Comment by lilian janet bregmen on January 7, 2011 at 1:33

So enjoyable...thanks

Comment by William Douglas on September 6, 2010 at 20:23

These, I think, are the lyrics. I find it hard to listen to!

There was a man sae dark and true
Wha Scotland loved sae dear,
There was a king wha lang will rue
The Scot wha fled him saer.

Gan cry the hounds of Douglasdale
Gan scream the Ettrick bow
Gan warn the spears of Liddesdale
That Edward leads the foe.

He wore the cross oor Andrew bore
By the steps of Calvary.
He won the sword that Robert wore
By the field of Balveny.

Gan shear the chains of slavery
Gan dance my liege manly
Gan ring the bell of liberty
Shod wi' the metal free.

He won his spurs doon by St. Bride
Upon the green sae free.
He held a leopard and the tide
By the field of Lintalee.

Gan shine the shield your father bore
Gan strike your metal free.
Gan shine the helm your father wore
By the field of Torwoodlee.

He rade by nicht when it was murk
Doon by the leopard's lair
He chased the tyrant in his shirt
Around the field sae fair.

Gan pack yer bag ye English loons
Gan take your banners hame
Gan tak your king wha sought oor croon
And lost the bloody game.