Monday, 31 October 2016

A song for Halloween

"Happy Hallowe'en folks, from a beautifully autumnal Scotland. Susie and I put together this video of the wonderful Violet Jacob poem that our great musical hero Jim Reid turned into a song. It was inspired by the death of her only son on Hallowe'en during the First World War. It is set on a farm and mentions a ploughman's kist like the old one we are sitting on. it alludes to Hallowe'en customs of the day among which bobbing for apples is still practised by children today. I carved out a large turnip to make a lantern in the traditional style. It's a lot more work but creates a great effect - very Harry Potter!"


1 comment:

  1. Hallowe'en

    THE tattie-liftin's nearly through,
    They're ploughin' whaur the barley grew,
    And aifter dark, roond ilka stack,
    Ye'11 see the horsemen stand an' crack
    Lachlan, but I mind o' you !

    1 mind foo often we hae seen
    Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween
    The nakit branches, an' below
    Baith fairm an' bothie hae their show,
    Alowe wi' lichts o' Hallowe'en.

    There's bairns wi' guizards* at their tail [Mummers who go door-to-door]
    Clourin' the doors wi' runts o' kail*, [celery stalks]
    And fine ye' 11 hear the skreichs an' skirls
    O' lassies wi' their droukit curls
    Bobbin' for aipples i' the pail.

    The bothie fire is loupin' het,
    A new heid horseman's kist is set
    Richts o' the lum; whaur by the blaze
    The auld ane stude that kept yer claes--
    I canna thole to see it yet!

    But gin the auld fowks' tales are richt
    An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,
    O freend o' freends! what wad I gie
    To feel ye rax yer hand to me
    Atween the dark an' caun'le licht?

    Awa in France, across the wave,
    The wee lichts burn on ilka grave,
    An' you an' me their lowe hae seen--
    Ye'11 mebbe hae yer Hallowe'en
    Yont, whaur ye're lyin' wi' the lave.

    There's drink an' damn', sang an' dance
    And ploys and kisses get their chance,
    But Lachlan, man, the place I see
    Is whaur the auld kist used to be
    And the lichts o' Hallowe'en in France!
    Violet Jacob