#1 of three recitations posted for Burns Night (Jan 25) 2010. Transcription and modern-English translation below. The poem (more properly, song) "Logan Water" is interesting in that it shares some of the imagery of the better-known song "The Plains Of Waterloo", fashioned in Southern England. It is likely that the source material was collected rather than composed by Burns, as were many of his songs: he did not always make the distinction. Very likely the Kentish collector of a quarter-century later went through the same process entirely separately and with no knowledge of Robin's endeavour, or indeed that of numerous others. Sad to think that such variety is now denied us in our 21st Century Global village, although, even sadder, the subject matter remains topical. Its theme is perennial and ubiquitous of course, that of the (usually impoverished) woman who considers herself a war widow even though her man still lives - as far as she knows - left cynically to her own devices by an uncaring government or tribal leader. The last verse is, to my mind at least, the words not of the wife herself but the remarks almost in the style of a Greek Chorus of some commentator whose wrath and indignation one can only endorse - regardless of one's views of warfare in general or of specific wars, the plight of "Service Wives" remains a sorry one and quite indefensible. No "half-a-sixpence" this, then, but rather in terms of its sheer vitriol a remote ancestor of Bob Dylan's "Masters Of War".
On a technical note - unfortunately the sound quality is somewhat rough because the river was in spate after the recent thawing of some heavy snowfalls, and as a result the anticipated ripple was more of a torrent. But then, if you reference "the month of May" in January, you are rather asking for trouble!
NB the map refers to the location for the poem: however the video was recorded near Dyserth in North Wales.
Transcription:
O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide
That day I was my Willie's bride,
And years sin syne hae o'er us run
Like Logan to the simmer sun.
But now thy flowery banks appear
Like drumlie winter, dark and drear,
While my dear lad maun face his faes
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.
Again the merry month of May
Has made our hills and vallies gay;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers;
Blythe Morning lifts his rosy eye,
And Evening tears are tears o' joy:
My soul delightless a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush:
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his song her cares beguile.
But I wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
O, wae upon you, Men o' State,
That brethren rouse in deadly hate!
As ye make monie a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return!
Ye mindna 'mid your cruel joys
The widow's tears, the orphan's cries;
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braes!
Translation:
O Logan, sweetly did you glide
That day I was my Willie's bride,
And years since then have over us run
Like Logan to the summer sun.
But now your flowery banks appear
Like dull winter, dark and dreary,
While my dear lad must face his foes
Far, far from me and Logan's hills.
Again the merry month of May
Has made our hills and valleys gay;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers;
Blythe Morning lifts his rosy eye,
And Evening's tears are tears of joy:
My soul sees no delight at all,
While Willie is far from Logan's hills.
Within yonder milk-white hawthorn bush,
Among her nestlings sits the thrush:
Her faithful mate will share her toil,
Or with his song her cares beguile.
But I with my sweet nurslings here,
No mate to help, no mate to cheer,
Pass widowed nights and joyless days,
While Willie is far from Logan's hills.
O, woe upon you, Men of State,
That brethren rouse in deadly hate!
As you make many a fond heart mourn,
So may it on your heads return!
You have no care 'midst cruel joys
For widow's tears or orphan's cries
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie home to Logan's hills!
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The evolution of one song - I Know You Want me ( Calle ocho) - Pitbull - Street Player Chicagoby solomusikhouse37,873 views
Llandsakes! What astonishes me is how popular he is with the Establishments in countries with lless-than enviable human rights records, who to-a-monster claim his philosophy as in accord with their own.
paronomeister 2 years ago