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Iona Fyfe

by Iona Fyfe

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1.
Lady Finella 04:48
Lady Finella she drinks at the wine, Lamentin fur her son He wis killed by the King o auld Scotland Fur aa that he hid done, fur aa that he hid done Fae the Dee tae the Esk, her faither he ruled. She bein o high degree She’s set a plan fur tae get her revenge, King Kenneth he maun dee, King Kenneth he maun dee King Kenneth wis chynging the laws o the lan, His son maun tak the throne Bit aa the Kings faimily, they taen ill wi this, And they raid tae Finella’s home, they raid tae Finella’s home “Oh Lady Finella, we heard o yer son An foo his bleed wis spilt And we’ve baith been wranged by King Kenneth oursels Fur this we wint him kilt, fur this we wint him kilt” Syne atween them aa they set the plot Forgiveness she wid feign She’d invite him tae her lan tae hunt An afore lang, he’d be slain, afore lang he’d be slain Sae they hunted, then feasted and drank at the wine She whispered in his ear “I ken o a ploy tae assassinate you The truth tae you I sweir, the truth tae you I sweir” “Let bygones be bygones, though ma son ye kilt His sins they werena few Oh gin ye cam up tae ma bed chaumer Some names I’ll tell tae you, traitors names I’ll tell tae you” In the chaumer a statue o a braw king did staun A gowd ring in its haun “A gift o peace I gie tae my King Wha rules ower this lan, wha rules ower this lan” Finella she smiled, then stepped aside The King he’s taen the ring Fan an arra fired an flew through his hairt, Finella killed the King, Finella killed the King The kingsmen they found him lyin deid on ‘e fleer The king aa covered wi bleed They couldna find Finella at aa, They’d nae rest till she wis deid, they’d nae rest till she wis deid She fled ower the howe wi the ocean in mind The lass being jimp an sma, She rin ower the treetops afollowin a stream She wis cornered by them aa, she wis cornered by them aa She louped fae the stream ower a wild waterfall Her body tossed an torn But some men believe she grew wings and taen flight And flew tae Irelands shore, and flew tae Irelands shore The kingsmen they burned Fettercairn tae the ground Kenneth’s body they retrieved An they buried him on the Isle o Iona His kingdom lang it grieved, his kingdom lang it grieved In the Den of Finella, rare orchids they growe The neist King he’s been crowned Think o Finella an whaur she may roam Or dis she lee in the ground, or dis the she lee in the ground?
2.
"Oh tell me fit wis on yer road, ye roarin Norland wind? As ye cam blawin fae the land that's niver fae ma mind. Ma feet they traivel England but I'm deein for the North." "Ma man, I saw the siller tides rin up the Firth o Forth." "Aye wind, I ken them weel eneuch an fine they fa and rise, And fain I'd feel the creepin mist on yonder shore that lies. But tell me as ye pass them by, fit saa ye on the way?" "Ma man, I rocked the rovin gulls that sail abeen the Tay." "Bit saa ye naethin leein wind afore ye cam tae Fife? For there's muckle lyin 'yont the Tay that's mair tae me nor life." "Ma man, I swept the Angus braes ye hinna trod for years." "Oh wind, forgie a hameless loon that canna see for tears." "And far abune the Angus straths I saa the wild geese flee, A lang, lang skein o beatin wings wi their heids toward the sea, And aye their cryin voices trailed ahint them on the air." "Oh wind, hae mercy, haud yer wheesht for I daurna listen mair."
3.
Wis there iver a winter sae caul an sae sad The river ower weary tae flood The storm an the win cut throw tae ma skin Bit she cut throw tae ma blood I wis luikin fur trouble tae tangle ma line Bit trouble cam luikin fur me I kaint I wis stannin on treacherous grun I wis sinkin ower faist tae rin free Wi her scheemin, idle weys She left me puir enough The storm an the win cut throw tae ma skin Bit she cut throw tae ma blood I widna be askin, I widna be seen A-beggin on mountain or hill Bit am ready an blin wi ma hauns tied ahin A’ve neither a mind nor a will Wi her scheemin, idle weys She left me puir enough The storm an the win cut throw tae ma skin Bit she cut throw tae ma blood It’s bitter the need o the puir ditchin boy He’ll ayewis believe whit they say They tell him its hard tae be honest an true Dis he mind if he disna get peyed? Wi her scheemin, idle weys She left me puir enough The storm an the win cut throw tae ma skin Bit she cut throw tae ma blood
4.
5.
Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm When the rivers freeze and summer ends Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm To keep her from the howlin’ winds Please see for me if her hair hangs long, If it rolls and flows all down her breast. Please see for me if her hair hangs long, That’s the way I remember her best. I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all Many times I’ve often prayed In the darkness of my night In the brightness of my day So if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine
6.
The Cauld 04:24
This lan we waulk on is growin auld This lan we waulk on the truth it’s tauld Fan did it cam tae be like this Fan did we let it gang amiss Tak me back tae the simmer time, Fan ye held me in yer airms Niver thocht ye’d dee me hairm We hid sic a lot tae lairn Tak me back fan we felt sae free Fan ye thocht I wis yer best Noo ah’m sittin wi the rest For ye left me in the cauld ootside This road we gan doon it’s gettin sair An though ah’m stounin, ah cam back for mair An ah winna let on tae far ah’v been An I winna let on tae fit ah’v seen An ah telt ye tae leave it be An ah telt ye ye coulda see the hale thing An ah telt ye ah’m wearin doon An ah thocht ah’d tak ma leave suin but ye Taen me back tae the simmer time, An ye held me in yer airms Niver thocht ah’d dee ye hairm Ye hae sic a lot tae lairn but ye T aen me back fan we felt sae free Fan ye thocht I wis yer best Noo ah’m speirin at the rest For ye left them in the cauld Tak me back tae the simmer time, Fan ye held me in yer airms Niver thocht ye’d dee ye hairm Ah hae sic a lot tae lairn but ye Taen me back fan we felt sae free Fan ye thocht I wis yer best Noo ah’m speirin at the rest For ye left them in the cauld ootside
7.
My dainty lass, lay you the blame Upon the richtfu’ heid; ‘Twas daft ill-luck that bigg’d yer hame The wrang side o’ the Tweed. Ye hae yer tocher a’ complete, Ye’re bonny as the rose, But I was born in Baltic Street, In Baltic Street, Montrose! Lang syne on mony a waefu’ nicht, Hie owre the sea’s distress, I’ve seen the great airms o’ the licht Swing oot frae Scurdyness; An’ prood, in sunny simmer blinks, When land-winds rase an’ fell, I’d flee my draigon on the links Wi’ callants like mysel’. Oh, Baltic Street is cauld an’ bare An’ mebbe no sae grand, But ye’ll feel the smell i’ the caller air O’ kippers on the land. ‘Twixt kirk an’ street the deid fowk bide, Their feet towards the sea, Ill neebours for a new-made bride, Gin ye come hame wi’ me. The steeple shades the kirkyaird grass, The seamen’s hidden banes, A dour-like kirk to an English lass Wha kens but English lanes; And when the haar, the winter through, Creeps blind on close and wa’ My hame micht get a curse frae you, Mysel’ get mebbe twa. I’ll up an’ aff the morn’s morn To seek some reid-haired queyn, Bauld-he’rted, strang-nieved, bred an’ born In this auld toon o’ mine. And oh! for mair I winna greet, Gin we hae meal an’ brose, And a but an’ ben in Baltic Street, In Baltic Street, Montrose!
8.
Scotland Yet 04:54
Gie noo a thocht o what we hae in this land o the leal. The heilan glen the Doric stream the fertile lowland field They seem tae offer different views when looked at from within Can strangers be the only eyes tae see it aw as yin The choice will be upon us soon tae set oor destiny I'll drink a toast tae Scotland yet whatever yet may be Oor mither tongue spoke different weys that past tae present ties Each separate and yet entwined that’s where oor real strength lies For should ae strand unwind itself the ithers tae forsake Then aw would be forever lost for aw the strands wid break While we still seek tae blame oor woes and pains on someone else We'll niver hae the strength tae solve oor problems for oorselves In truth we focht each ither mair learn this fae oor past Then together we can choose for oorselves at last
9.
In ‘e bleak midwinter A lang lang time ago Earth stood hard as iron Waater like a stone Snaw hid faen Snaw on snaw, snaw on snaw In ‘e bleak midwinter A lang, lang time ago Whit can I gie Him Puir as I am? Gin I were a shepherd Ah wid gie a lamb An gin I were a wise loon Ah’d duly play ma pairt Whit can ah gie him? Ah wid gie ma hairt In The Bleak Midwinter Frosty wind maks mane A’ll ne'er be a stranger And niver rove alane. An gin that I should loose my wye An waak a darkened road Yer licht ‘ill guide me hameward Yer love fir me ye showed credits
10.
As we rode oot by Fyvie-o, as we rode oot by Fyvie-o Well I fell in love wi a lady like a dove And her name it wis caad pretty Peggy-o There’s mony a lass in Auchterlass, there’s mony a lass in the Garioch-o There’s mony I’ve seen in the streets o’ Aiberdeen Bit the flooer o’ them aa’s pretty Peggy-o Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie X2 Well if you wid mairry me pretty Peggy-o If you wid mairry me pretty peggy-o Well if you wid mairry me, then a’ll set yer city free, And a’ll spare aa the people o Fyvie-o A’ll gie ye ribbons an a’ll gie ye rings A’ll gie ye a necklace o’ amber-o I’ll stitch ye a dress, silk and flooers on it’s chest If you a foreign sodger for tae mairry-o Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie Well I wida mairried you sweet William-o Well I wida mairried you sweet William-o Well I wida mairried you, afore my brithers hairt you slew Noo I’ll tak nae foreign sodger for tae marry-o Come steppin doon the stairs, pretty Peggy-o Come steppin doon the stairs, pretty Peggy-o Come steppin doon the stairs, and bind up yer yellow hair Tak a last fareweel o yer Daddy-o Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie It wis early last mornin fin we mairched awa, The captain said he wis sorry-o Well the drums they did beat like the grun aneath oor feet And the band played The Bonnie Lass o’ Fyvie-o If niver I return pretty Peggy-o If niver I return pretty Peggy-o When I see the morning dew, Oh I will think of you My bonnie lass o’ Fyvie-o Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie Well lang ere we cam tae Aulmeldrum toon Oor captain we had to carry-o Bit when we returned tae the streets o’ Aiberdeen Oor captain we had to bury-o Green grow the birk upon Ythanside And low lie the lowlands o Fyvie-o Oor captain's name was Ned and he died for a maid He died for the bonnie lass o Fyvie-o Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass Woah, pretty peggy, woah bonny lass of Fyvie-o

about

Over from 2020 to 2022, I released 10 separate singles that stand alone and don't fit a specific concept. Despite the ten tracks being long enough to create an album, I decided to release each track separately, as they were always intended to only be singles. I thought I'd collate the singles into an easy-to-download Bandcamp digital release so that they can be accessed from the same place, all-together. My second album is hopefully being recorded in January 2023, and will be with you as soon as possible.

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released November 4, 2022

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Iona Fyfe Scotland, UK

Aberdeenshire folksinger, Iona Fyfe, has become one of Scotland’s finest young folk singers, rooted in the singing traditions of the North East of Scotland. The first ever singer to win the coveted title of Musician of the Year at the MG ALBA Scots Trad Music Awards 2021, Iona has been described as “one of the best Scotland has to offer.” (Global-Music.de)

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