I was told about Hamish Henderson a few weeks ago and just spent a delightful hour making friends with his best known song ‘Freedom Come All Ye’.

There have been a few translations into English but I didn’t really like any of them so I’ve written my own, building on unattributed previous efforts. It’s such a shame that ‘down’ and ‘bloom’, and ‘more’ and ‘bare’ don’t rhyme in my southern English accent!

Original scots:

Roch the wind in the clear day’s dawin
Blaws the cloods heilster-gowdie owre the bay
But there’s mair nor a roch wind blawin
Thro the Great Glen o the warld the day

It’s a thocht that wad gar oor rottans
Aa thae rogues that gang gallus fresh an gay
Tak the road an seek ither loanins
Wi thair ill-ploys tae sport an play

Nae mair will our bonnie callants
Merch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw
Nor wee weans frae pitheid an clachan
Mourn the ships sailin doun the Broomielaw

Broken faimlies in lands we’ve hairriet
Will curse ‘Scotlan the Brave’ nae mair, nae mair
Black an white ane-til-ither mairriet
Mak the vile barracks o thair maisters bare

Sae come aa ye at hame wi freedom
Never heed whit the houdies croak for Doom
In yer hoos aa the bairns o Adam
Will find breid, barley-bree an paintit rooms

When Maclean meets wi’s friens in Springburn
Aa thae roses an geans will turn tae blume
An the black lad frae yont Nyanga
Dings the fell gallows o the burghers doun.

Robin’s English translation/adaptation*

Rough the wind in the clear day’s dawning
Blows the clouds topsy-turvy about the bay,
But there’s more than a rough wind blowing
Through the great glen of the world today.

It’s a thought that will make our tyrants
(Rogues who fancy themselves so fine and gay)
Take the road, and seek other pastures
For their ill ploys to sport and play

No more will our bonnie callants
March to war when our braggarts crudely caw,
Nor wee ones from pit-head and hamlet
Mourn the ships sailin’ down the Broomielaw.

Broken families in lands we’ve harried,
Will curse ‘Scotland the Brave’ no more, no more;
Black and white, hand in hand together,
Will drive the tyrants from each and every shore

So come all ye at home with freedom,
Never heed the cronies croak for doom.
In your house all the bairns of Adam
Will find bread, barley-bree and painted rooms.

When MacLean meets with friends in Springburn
Sweet the flowers will bloom that day for thee
And a black boy from old Nyanga
Will break his chains and know true liberty

* There are a few places where I have chosen to use different but congruent imagery that will speak more immediately to modern English speaking listeners and singers whilst also keeping the overall shape, meaning and rhyming structure intact.

As a result this is considered an adaptation as much as a translation, coming from a place of really wanting to find an authentic way to sing this song I love in my own voice.

I have left in a few Scots words like ‘bonnie callants’ as the surrounding lyrics make it easy for the singer or listener to understand the meaning.