All on a Summers Evening by Karine Polwart With Pippa Murphy Lyrics
[Verse]
As I was walking down yon hill
All on a Summer's evening
There I spied a bonny lass
Skipping barefoot through the heather
And oh but she was neatly dressed
She neither needed hat nor feather
She was the queen among them all
Skipping barefoot through the heather
She wore a gown o' bonny [?]
Her petticoats were a pheasant colour
And in between the stripes were seen
Shining bells of blooming heather
Oh dear lass would you gan with me?
Would you gan with me and leave your heather?
Silks and satins ye shall wear
If you gan with me and leave your heather
[Interlude]
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
[Spoken Word Section]
In the final week of May 1919, Will Sines last lamb is born
He strides out from [?], past Crichton and through the tall Scots' pines
The sky melts: amber, cherry-pink and violet
As the ground levels onto [?]
And the Forth valley opens up a thousand feet below him
He traces the line of the salter's road down to the sea
The wind blows up, and he hears her, before he sees her
His Roberta
Her clear true voice lilting through the heather, in amongst the larks
For the first time since he left that desert war
There she sits, with her narrow back to him
Her black hair tumbling down her spine
Her bare feet dangling and [?]
As I was walking down yon hill
All on a Summer's evening
There I spied a bonny lass
Skipping barefoot through the heather
And oh but she was neatly dressed
She neither needed hat nor feather
She was the queen among them all
Skipping barefoot through the heather
She wore a gown o' bonny [?]
Her petticoats were a pheasant colour
And in between the stripes were seen
Shining bells of blooming heather
Oh dear lass would you gan with me?
Would you gan with me and leave your heather?
Silks and satins ye shall wear
If you gan with me and leave your heather
[Interlude]
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
[Spoken Word Section]
In the final week of May 1919, Will Sines last lamb is born
He strides out from [?], past Crichton and through the tall Scots' pines
The sky melts: amber, cherry-pink and violet
As the ground levels onto [?]
And the Forth valley opens up a thousand feet below him
He traces the line of the salter's road down to the sea
The wind blows up, and he hears her, before he sees her
His Roberta
Her clear true voice lilting through the heather, in amongst the larks
For the first time since he left that desert war
There she sits, with her narrow back to him
Her black hair tumbling down her spine
Her bare feet dangling and [?]