Gillie Mor ( Words : Hamish Henderson Music : 'Whistle Ower the Lave o't' ) O horo, the Gillie Mor, whit's the ploy ye're on sae early? Braw news sae tell it fairly, O horo, the Gillie Mor News o him yon muckle callant, whistlin at the smiddy door Tak yer bow for here's yer ballant! O horo, the Gillie Mor O horo, the Gillie Mor, come awa an gie's yer blether Here's a dram'll droun the weather, O horo, the Gillie Mor Sons o birk an pine an rowan, Jocks an Ivans by the score Swappin yarns tae cowe the gowans, O horo, the Gillie Mor O horo, the Gillie Mor, nou's the time the haimmer's ready Haud the tangs, aye haud them steady, O horo, the Gillie Mor Gar the iron ring a'bhallich, gar it ring frae shore tae shore Leith tae Kiev, Don tae Gairloch, O horo, the Gillie Mor O horo, the Gillie Mor, here's a weld'll wear forever Our grip they cannae sever, O horo, the Gillie Mor Ane's the wish yoke's us thegither, ane's the darg that lies afore You an me, the man, the brither - me an you, the Gillie Mor copyright Hamish Henderson Notes on Scots language/pronunciation: Written at the height of the Cold War as a message of friends and solidarity from the Blacksmith's Trade Union in Leith in Scotland to the Blacksmith's Trade Union in Kiev in the Ukraine. It creates the character of the Gillie Mor (The Big Lad) as a kind of Paul Bunyan-esque giant to symbolise the industrial working class. DG DG oct97
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