Someone asked awhile back for these song lyrics and I don't recall
them being posted. Since I just found a tape with the lyrics, here
they are:
Fare ye well ye banks of Sicily
Fare ye well ye valley and shore
There's no Scot will mourn the loss o' ya
Poor bloody soldiers are weary.
The pipe he is tuned and he's pipin' away
He won' be in town for his vino today
The sky is like Antrim, all cloudy and gray
And the song that he's playin' is eerie
Fare ye well...
It's march down the stair, and line on the bay
Your pack's on your back now the boats are away
You're waitin' your turn while the fife and drum play
And the song that they're playin' is eerie
Fare ye well...
The drum he is polished, the drum he is grand
He can no' be seen for his straps and his bands
He's greased himself up for a photo and stand
To leave with his Lola, his dearie.
Fare ye well...
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Rusty Aasheim
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