DESCRIPTION:
Hamish Henderson song written in 1960, translated from Scots by Andrew Calhoun

Roch the wind in the clear day dawin'
Blaws the cloods heelster-gowdie (topsy turvy) o'er the bay
But there's mair nor a roch wind blawin'
Through the great glen o' the warld the day
It's a thocht that would gar oor rottans (that would have our vermin)
A' thae rogues that gang gallus, fresh and gay
Tak' the road tae seek ither loanin's (pastures)
Their ill ploys tae sport and play

Nae mair will oor bonnie callants (lads, term of affection)
Mairch tae war when the braggarts croosely craw (boldly crow)
Nor wee weans (babies) frae pitheid and clachan
Mourn the ships sailin' doon the Broomielaw (area in Glasgow)
Broken faim'lies in lands we've harried
Will curse Scotland the brave nae mair, nae mair (no more)
Black and white, ane til th' ither married
Mak' the vile barracks o' their maisters bare

So, cam' all ye at hame wi' freedom
Never heed whit the hoodies (crows) croak for doom
In your hoose a' the bairns o' Adam
Will find breid, barley bree an' painted room
When MacLean meets wi' his freends in Springburn
A' the roses and geans (daisies) will turn tae bloom
And a black boy frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o' the burghers doon

Here is Dick Gaughan singing it in Scots:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nLGKFTH5sw

Rough the wind in the clear day dawnin'
Blows the clouds rolling wildly o'er the bay
But there's more than a rough wind blowin'
Through the great glen of the world today
It's a thought that would have our grafters
Moneyed rogues that strut and swagger day by day
Take the road to seek other pastures
With their ill ploys to sport and play

No more will our bonnie young men
March to war when the braggarts crow with pride
Nor wee children from pithead and clachan (hamlet)
Mourn the ships sailin' down the River Clyde
And broken families in lands we've harried
No more curse Scotland the Brave in grief and care
Black and white, one to other married
Make the vile barracks of their masters bare

So, come all ye at home with freedom
Never heed the hooded crows that croak for doom
In your house, all babes of Eve and Adam
Will find bread, barley bree and painted room
When MacLean meets wi' his friends in Springburn
Roses and cherry trees will bloom all round
And a stripling boy from far Nyanga
Tears the fell gallows of the burghers down

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