Drove to Falkirk Tryst (bestof)

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V6-MINI

(Pre-Chorus)
The river's running wild and wide,
the herd will not go through,
but the collie cuts across the ford
and drives them through the blue.

(Chorus)
Drive the cattle down,
drive them through the rain,
from the Highlands to the lowlands,
to Falkirk once again.
Drive the cattle down,
through the wind and through the pain,
from the glens down to the market
where the English buyers wait.

(Verse 2 – The Long Road)
Past Kylerhea's narrow tide,
through Glen Shiel's rainy stone,
past Cluanie Inn where drovers rest,
and Rannoch Moor alone.
Ben Nevis watches from the north,
Glen Coe's mountains watch in stone,
I sleep upon the cold hard ground,
my collie by my side alone.

(Pre-Chorus)
The cattle thieves are in the dark,
they watch the herd by night,
a whistle and a stolen beast,
a knife drawn in the night.

(Drop)
Drive! Drive!
Through the rain and through the night!
Drive! Drive!
Till the lowlands come in sight!

(Call & Response)
From the glen! — TO THE TOWN!
From the river! — DRIVE THEM DOWN!
To Falkirk! — TO THE FAIR!
Raise the Saltire! — HIGH IN AIR!

(Crowd)
Can you hear the pipes?!
WE HEAR THE PIPES!
Can you hear the drums?!
WE HEAR THE DRUMS!
What do we drive?!
THE HERD!
Who are we?!
THE DROVERS!

(Verse 3 – The Last Rest)
A final pause beside the burn,
the cattle graze and drink,
I check their hooves and count the herd,
and let my tired eyes blink.
The crofters here from Ayrshire,
they work the whole day long,
but still the harvest comes up short,
the land is hard and wrong.

(Verse 4 – Burns at the Plough)
His Kelpies pull the plough across,
the acre dark and deep,
and Luath, his Border collie,
runs with Caesar through the sheep.
The poet works the weary soil,
his hands are rough and sore,
but in the evening candlelight,
he writes his songs once more.

(Verse 5 – The Last Five Dunface)
Next morning he drives his last five sheep,
his thin Dunface so few,
he takes them to the market square,
to see what they will do.
A life of toil, an early death,
and yet a poet's mind,
and at the Burns Supper every year,
we feast and drink and find,
the spirit of the man who wrote,
for all of Scotland's kind.

(Breakdown)
Through Glen Eagles to the market,
the pens are full and loud,
the English coin is counted
by the buyers in the crowd.
I stand beside my cattle
with an empty purse and hand,
and I sell the last I own
to a stranger from the south.

(Verse 6 – The Road Home)
The market day is over,
the cattle sold and gone,
I count my few remaining coins,
and start the road back home.
The road home is long and cold,
the road home is bare,
but my collie walks beside me,
my only comfort there.

(Bridge)
No fire, no coin, no comfort,
just the collie by my side,
the road home through the Highlands
is a lonely, winding ride.
The harvest in the croft is thin,
the winter's at the door,
and the drover walks his final road
as he has done before.

(Final Chorus)
Drive the cattle down,
drive them through the rain,
from the Highlands to the lowlands,
to Falkirk once again.
Drive the cattle down,
through the wind and through the pain,
from the glens down to the market
and back to the hills again.

(Outro)
A few coins in my pocket,
my collie keeps me warm,
the freedom of the Highlands
through every winter storm.
This is my life, this is my home,
the hills, the wind, the rain,
a Highlander forever,
until I walk again.

3917/7500

THE DROVERS' ROAD TO FALKIRK (Verse 1 – The Gathering at Skye) From the Isle of Skye I come, to the crofters' door I call, I take their cattle by the horn, the lean, the strong, the small. The harvest there is barely grown, the barley thin and poor, they sell the last they own to me, and close the broken door. (Pre-Chorus) The river's running wild and wide, the herd will not go through, but the collie cuts across the ford and drives them through the blue. (Chorus) Drive the cattle down, drive them through the rain, from the Highlands to the lowlands, to Falkirk once again. Drive the cattle down, through the wind and through the pain, from the glens down to the market where the English buyers wait. (Verse 2 – The Long Road) Past Kylerhea's narrow tide, through Glen Shiel's rainy stone, past Cluanie Inn where drovers rest, and Rannoch Moor alone. Ben Nevis watches from the north, Glen Coe's mountains watch in stone, I sleep upon the cold hard ground, my collie by my side alone. (Pre-Chorus) The cattle thieves are in the dark, they watch the herd by night, a whistle and a stolen beast, a knife drawn in the night. (Chorus) Drive the cattle down, drive them through the rain, from the Highlands to the lowlands, to Falkirk once again. Drive the cattle down, through the wind and through the pain, from the glens down to the market where the English buyers wait. (Drop) Drive! Drive! Through the rain and through the night! Drive! Drive! Till the lowlands come in sight! (Call & Response) From the glen! — TO THE TOWN! From the river! — DRIVE THEM DOWN! To Falkirk! — TO THE FAIR! Raise the Saltire! — HIGH IN AIR! (Crowd) Can you hear the pipes?! WE HEAR THE PIPES! Can you hear the drums?! WE HEAR THE DRUMS! What do we drive?! THE HERD! Who are we?! THE DROVERS! (Verse 3 – The Last Rest) A final pause beside the burn, the cattle graze and drink, I check their hooves and count the herd, and let my tired eyes blink. The crofters here from Ayrshire, they work the whole day long, but still the harvest comes up short, the land is hard and wrong. (Verse 4 – Burns at the Plough) His Kelpies pull the plough across, the acre dark and deep, and Luath, his Border collie, runs with Caesar through the sheep. The poet works the weary soil, his hands are rough and sore, but in the evening candlelight, he writes his songs once more. (Verse 5 – The Last Five Dunface) Next morning he drives his last five sheep, his thin Dunface so few, he takes them to the market square, to see what they will do. A life of toil, an early death, and yet a poet's mind, and at the Burns Supper every year, we feast and drink and find, the spirit of the man who wrote, for all of Scotland's kind. (Breakdown) Through Glen Eagles to the market, the pens are full and loud, the English coin is counted by the buyers in the crowd. I stand beside my cattle with an empty purse and hand, and I sell the last I own to a stranger from the south. (Verse 6 – The Road Home) The market day is over, the cattle sold and gone, I count my few remaining coins, and start the road back home. The road home is long and cold, the road home is bare, but my collie walks beside me, my only comfort there. (Bridge) No fire, no coin, no comfort, just the collie by my side, the road home through the Highlands is a lonely, winding ride. The harvest in the croft is thin, the winter's at the door, and the drover walks his final road as he has done before. (Final Chorus) Drive the cattle down, drive them through the rain, from the Highlands to the lowlands, to Falkirk once again. Drive the cattle down, through the wind and through the pain, from the glens down to the market and back to the hills again. (Outro) A few coins in my pocket, my collie keeps me warm, the freedom of the Highlands through every winter storm. This is my life, this is my home, the hills, the wind, the rain, a Highlander forever, until I walk again.

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