Artist & Tune
Version by Tony Cuffe
Version by Holdstock and Macleod
Version by North Sea Gas
Version by Cantrip
Version by Keltik Elektrik
Version by The Corries
Version by The Revels
Version by Bok Muir & Trickett
Version by Émigré
About the Song
This song is derived from a poem by Walter Watson (1780-1854), a muslin weaver in Chryston, north of Glasgow. Known as ‘The Chryston Poet’, he wrote a number of popular songs. He herded cattle, wound pirns, was a farm labourer, tried his father’s trade of the loom, and became a sawyer in Glasgow. When nineteen, he was recruited into the Scots Greys for three years and discharged at the Peace of Amiens, 1802. He returned to the loom, married in 1803, and published collections of poetry in 1808, 1823 and 1843. These “brought him fame but not much else”. His final years were spent near Kirkintilloch where he died of cholera in 1854.
The poem was originally set to the tune of the "Wearing of the Green". It has put to various tunes over the years. This setting and arrangements if credited to Tony Cuffe. The lyrics in Rise Again follow Tony Cuffe's version.
The poem was written in Scots dialect:
sae = so, crack = enterainment, eident = diligent, busy; flit = to move somewhere else; lippened = trusted; nappy = foaming, strong; Providence = God; rax me yer mill = reach me over your snuff mill, rinning = spinning.
Translation(s)
Here is the adaptation without the Scottish dialect words by Gordon Bok as sung on Bok, Muir & Trickett's "And So Will We Yet" album:
Come sit down beside us and give us your chat;
Let the wind take the cares of this life off your back.
For our hearts to despondency we never will submit;
We've always been provided for and so will we yet.
And so will we yet, and so will we yet.
We've always been provided for and so will we yet.
Come lift up your voices so hearty or frail;
'Twill lighten your hearts and enliven the tale.
We will always be the merrier, the longer that we sit,
We've sung together many a time and so will we yet.
Here's a song for the farmer who prospers the plow,
Rewarding his ardent toils all the year around.
And seedtime and harvest he always will get,
For he's left it all to Providence and so will we yet.
And a song for the carpenter, may patience guide your hand,
For the dearer your work to you, the longer it will stand.
And when the wind is at our door we never will forget,
We've sung your praises many a time and so will we yet.
*And a song for the women with your voices so dear;
Field and road in sun and snow, you bring it all in here.
Your wisdom is as welcome here as is your laughter bright;
We've sung your praises many's the day, and so into the night.
And a song for all you singers who keep your voices clear;
Good health to you and happiness to all that you hold dear.
For the world, as you would have it be, you sing with all your wit,
And ease the work of Providence, and so will we yet.
So lift up your noble hearts with laughter and song,
And may your days be brighter and your nights be not so long.
For your joys were just as welcome here as woes you would forget
And when you wept, we wept with you, and so will we yet.
*Not sung on this recording.
©1990, Timberhead Music
Alt Lyrics
Original lyrics per The Book of Scottish Song by Alexander Whitelaw in 1843.
Sit ye down here, my cronies, and gi'e us your crack,
Let the win' tak' the care o' this life on its back,
Our hearts to despondency we never will submit,
For we've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet.
And sae will we yet, &c.
Let the miser delight in the hoarding of pelf,
Since he has not the saul to enjoy it himself:
Since the bounty of providence is new ev'ry day,
As we journey through life, let us live by the way.
Let us live by the way, &c.
Then bring us a tankard o' nappy gude ale;
For to comfort our hearts and enliven the tale;
We'll aye be the merrier the langer we sit,
For we've drank thegither mony a time, and sae will we yet.
And sae will we yet, &c.
Success to the farmer, and prosper his plough,
Bewarding his eident toils a' the year through!
Our seed time and harvest we ever will get,
For we've lippen'd aye to providence, and sae will we yet.
And sae will we yet, &c.
Long live the king, and happy may he be,
And success to his forces by land and by sea!
His enemies to triumph we never will permit,
Britons aye have been victorious, and sae will they yet.
And sae will they yet, &c.
Let the glass keep its course, and go merrily roun',
For the sun has to rise, though the moon it goes down.
Till the house be rinnin' roun' about, it's time enough to flit,
When we fell, we aye got up again, and sae will we yet.
And sae will we yet, &c.