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The Moss o Burreldale
Hector Riddell: On Autumn Harvest ah006: Old Songs & Bothy Ballads: Nick-knack on the Waa. Live from the Fife Traditional Singing Festival May 2007.
Composed by George Morris of Oldmeldrum around 1930. Geordie and his brother in law Willie Kemp were responsible for composing many of the later bothy ballads or cornkisters and their recordings of the songs issued as 78s and easily available printed song booklets ensured their wide popularity.
1 Hiv ye ever seen a tinker's camp upon a simmer's nicht,
On a nicht afore a market, fan aa things gaun richt,
Fan aa the tramps an hawkers they come fae hill an dale,
Tae gaither in the gloamin on the Moss o Burreldale.
Chorus:
The ale wis only tuppence, an a tanner bocht a gill,
A besom or a tilly pan or a shelt ye aye could sell,
An we aa forgot oor troubles ower a forty o sma ale,
When we gathered in the gloamin on the Moss o Burreldale.
2 Jock Stewart he wid hae a fecht an took his jacket aff,
Bit Squeakin Annie sattled him, we aa got sic a laugh.
She ran ower amang the tilly-pans, for a wee fite iron pail,
An she skeppit him like a swarm o bees on the Moss o Burreldale.
3 Noo little Jimmy Docherty, a horseman great wis he,
He jumpit on a sheltie's back, some tricks to let us see;
Bit a callant shoved some prickly whins aneath the sheltie's tail.
Heid first he shot in a mossy pot ower the Moss o Burreldale.
4 By this time Stewart had got the pail torn aff his achin heid,
An he kickit up an awfu soun, enough tae wauk the deid,
Fan Annie roared, "Come on Macduff, tho I should get the jail!
Pit them up, ma mannie, ye're nae feart at Annie, the Rose o Burreldale."
5 Bit Annie wis nae langer heard for muckle Jock MacQueen,
He startit tunin up the pipes he bocht in Aiberdeen;
He blew sae hard, the skin wis thin, the bag began tae swell,
An awa flew Jock wi his sheepskin pyoke ower the Moss o Burreldale.
6 Noo the dogs they startit barkin, an the cuddy roared, "Hee-haw!"
The tramps and hawkers aa turned roun and sic a sicht they saw;
'Twis Docherty as black's Auld Nick, the bairns let oot a yell,
So we shoodered oor packs an aa made tracks fae the Moss o Burreldale.
7 Bit noo the spring cairt's oot o date, the sheltie it's ower slow,
The tramps and hawkers noo-a-days hae langer roads tae go;
For ye aa maun hae a motor car, ye wint oor goods tae sell,
Bit I'll never forget the nichts we met on the Moss o Burreldale.
Chorus:
Fan ale wis only tuppence, an a tanner bocht a gill,
A besom or a tilly pan or a shelt ye aye could sell,
An we aa forgot oor troubles ower a forty o sma ale,
When we gathered in the gloamin on the Moss o Burreldale.
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c p 2008 Autumn Harvest : www.springthyme.co.uk
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