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This Land is Our Land

by Alan Dickson

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    This sampler EP showcases some of the songs from the Strains of Eden project. Devised and created by Scottish singer songwriter Alan Dickson it focuses on Scotland during the 18th and 19th centuries. Most of the songs in the series will appear for the first time. The project aims to make an important addition to the rich cultural heritage of Scottish life, and to raise awareness of this period in terms of informing debate about social and ecological concerns of today. For more information visit: www.strainsofeden.net

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1.
A generation like to this Did never man behold, I mean our great and mighty men Who covetous are of gold. Solomon could not well approve The practice of their lives, To oppress and to keep down the poor, Their actions cut like knives. Among great men where shall ye find A godly man like Job, He made the widows’ heart to sing, But our lairds make them sob. It is the duty of great men The poor folks to defend, But worldly interest moves our lairds, They mind another end. They from the hungry take the sheaf And of them corn do crave, They turn them out to ly in fields Nor house nor shelter have. The word says rob ye not the poor Nor widow in distress, Or else your wives shall widows be, Your children fatherless. For they that strain the poor man’s right Of either lands or food, The lord says he’ll debar their souls From any spiritual good. They are more forward to thrust out Poor people from their land, Than Israel was the heathen folks When Moses did command. The lords and lairds they drive us out From maillings where we dwell, The poor man says ‘Where shall we go?’ The rich says ‘Go to hell.’ These words they spoke in jest and mocks, But by their works we know, That if they have their herds and flocks, They care not where we go. Against the poor they still prevail With all their wicked works, And will enclose both moor and dale And turn corn fields to parks. Unto the man that wicked is His sorrows shall abound; For come the day of judgement No mercy shall be found.
2.
Welcome to the world of William Ogilvie He gave his heart and soul so we could be free He said the land is our birthright, belongs to you and me But ignorance of this was the cause of much poverty He said the Judges, the Clergy were partners in crime By sleight of hand they seized the land, saying landlords were divine They were paid and sworn in not to question sacred writ But if you ask me says William they’re freebootin’ half wits Chorus Give it up for William Ogilvie He said landlordism’s legal robbery Give it up for William Ogilvie He said the land belongs to the whole community This reign of law and order was instilled in peoples’ minds They preached from the pulpit, just pay your rent and fines This doctrine of private ownership of controlling all the land Is an heinous existence and an awful bloody scam We got dishonesty, corruption and strife and misery Enslavement, oppression, for all the world to see The choice was to starve at home or leave for foreign shores If you ask me says William don’t stand for this no more Chorus So come all you people and have no other gods Neither Dukes nor Earls or those land grabbing Lords Don’t cringe under the tyranny of their established rules For we’re the natural heirs not those ignorant fools If you want peace and justice here’s what you have to do Show the strength of your conviction and raise your point of view Tell them you want land reform demand your own birthright And if they don’t listen says William it’s time to pick a fight Chorus
3.
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to victorie! Now's the day, and now's the hour: See the front o' battle lour, See approach proud Edward's power Chains and slaverie! Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn, and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and Law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Let him follow me! By Oppression's woes and pains, By your sons in servile chains, We will drain our dearest veins But they shall be free! Lay the proud Usurpers low Tyrants fall in every foe Liberty’s in every blow Let us do – or die! Let us now proclaim our right End all poverty in sight We’re not afraid of the Laird’s might We’ll hae democracy! Wha shall take our precious land What is ours by high command Our soul we’ll save by our own hand It is our destiny!
4.
As evening dashed on the western ocean, Caledonia stood perched on the waves of the Clyde; Her arms wide extended she raised with devotion,- “My poor bleeding country” she vehemently cried, “Arise up my country and hail reformation; “Arise and demand now the rights of our nation. Behold your oppressors shall meet the desolation; “That marked the brave victims at dark Bonnymuir, On the 5th day of April, eighteen hundred and twenty, The great Baird and Hardie did march from their home; To guard their freedom, homes, rights, peace and plenty, But tyranny conquered and gave them a tomb. Like traitors they died on the 8th of September; In the cold silent grave they were consigned to slumber, But heaven will avenge them let tyrants remember; And raise up new hero's on dark Bonnymuir, Though freedom has bled on the field sorely wounded, Shall liberty perish and die in its bloom? Shall tyranny triumph though freedom has grounded? The arms of the hero's that lie ill in the tomb, But freedom shall rise to the greatest perfection, Avenging her wrongs with hard words of correction; When on my country with filial affection, I sigh for the martyrs of dark Bonnymuir. How long shall tyrants usurp over freedom? How long shall we groan in their vile servlle chains? Arise up my children and sink them like Sodom. E'er sad desolation reigns over the plains; Oh, muse on the day when great Wallace was rearing The broad sword of Scotland, when tyrants were fearing, At the sound of the trumpet were thousands appearing, To die, or to conquer on dark Bonnymuir.
5.
We'll have our Highlands righted yet, Too long have they been slighted yet; Come! let us join, and bold combine, To have our Highlands righted yet. Some Highland lairds are loth to mov, Their hearts seem dead to Highland love, But sterling men will ready prove To have their Highlands righted yet. We'll have our Highlands righted yet, And happy all united yet; Our Gaelic tongue, from Eden sprung, No longer shall be slighted yet. We'll have it taught to every bairn, Its glorious beauty all must learn, Then every mountain, hill, and cairn, Shall leap to see it righted yet. We'll have our Highlands righted yet, Our cottars all requited yet; God made the earth for men of worth, Then why are they so slighted yet? Shall men be reft of home and bread, That brutes for sportsmen may be fed? No! no! such laws of Wrong we'll sned, And have our Highlands righted yet. We'll have our Highlands righted yet, Our name no longer blighted yet; When every glen shall teem with men, And thousands be delighted yet: Then let us work with Highland skill, With Highland hearts of tire and will, And never yield our faith until We have our Highlands righted yet.
6.
Ye sons of Scotland, rise in union, To set your native mountains free; For wealth and greed, in base communion, Enslave the land from sea to sea. From lands that were their sires’ possession, Behold, your neighbours are exiled; Submission strengthens harsh oppression— Shall Scotland be a forest wild? Chorus Brave sons of Scotland, rise! Arise, and not in vain; Drive out the sportsmen and their deer, And claim your hills again! Think how your brethren and their children Are driven to a foreign shore; Now drive out those who dispossessed them, Recall them to their hills once more! The price of land is fairly given By paying twenty years of rent, Yet many now from Scotland driven Would pay thrice o’er and be content. Chorus “Give back the land,” cries Alexander, Ah! no; ’tis given by God’s own hand; Then let your battle cry be even grander— Not “give,” ’tis yours; “take” back the land! When sire and son have given rental For holdings lairds now choose to clear. This wrong is more than sentimental, ’Tis plunder without shame or fear. Chorus

credits

released March 25, 2015

Support from the Alistair Hulett Memorial Trust in helping to fund this EP is gratefully appreciated. Also, special thanks to John Powles of the Janey Buchan Political Song Collection, for his ongoing support and encouragement.
© ℗ Rowth Records 2015
© Rowth Publishing 2015

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Alan Dickson Glasgow, UK

Scottish singer songwriter Alan Dickson was born in Leith but now based in Glasgow. Alan writes about life in Scotland and beyond, mainly of a personal and political nature.

Descended from a Leith docker, he remarks: "as life mimics art I'm just like my grandfather, only he used a rivet gun and I use a guitar."

Among his influences are Robert Burns, Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan and Dick Gaughan.
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