(Stevenson Productions SP20420)

A twentieth anniversary celebration!

©è 2007, Stevenson Productions, All rights reserved.

8323 Justin Avenue, Baton Rouge, LA 70809 USA



(Dudley-Brian Smith, © 1989, BMI)

The mist is on the water; the half-moon is still;

Fires from the village burn against the chill

The watchman is sleeping – no one hears them ‘til

It’s too late to run, but you run for the hills!

Longships are coming you’d better beware

Longships are coming be prepared.


The warnings were given; danger’s on the rise.

You’d better be ready by the rising of the tide.

The signals are clear, but too many close their eyes.

Only a few remember what was prophesied.


Sure destruction – certain doom;

Only those who are ready escape the tomb.



(Jan & Dudley-Brian Smith, © 1999, BMI)

I would walk the Highlands,

I would walk the moors;

I would give up all I own

Gin(if) it brought me to your door.

I would swim Loch Lomond;

I would climb Ben Lawers;

I would do most anything,

Gin it brought me to your door.

And gin I came to your door,

I would be where I long to be.

I would never wish to wander…

With you I’d live and die.

And gin you open your door…

Gin you let me in,

I will lie in your heart,

In the Highlands to the end.



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1997, BMI)

O, James of the Glen, you’re a braw and loyal man

To the idea of Scotland fair and Scotland free

But you’ll be the sacrifice for Colin Campbell’s life

And you’ll hang in the rain while Appin grieves.

A life for a life the judge Argyll demands

But this life becomes a symbol of our land

This land you would set free

And so you hang upon that tree

As if one silenced voice would stop the hearts

And still the swords for Scotland free.


There’s a kettle on the boil, fueled by honest toil

Of our fathers born and dying so we might be free

So we pray for autumn speight to wipe the shame away

Of oppressions bonds and chains of slavery.


O, James of the Glen, you were an honest friend

Who gave your precious life in hopes we’d be set free

But your brave sacrifice has rekindled the light

Across this land for Scotland fair and Scotland free

A life for a life…



(Jan Smith, ©1988, BMI)

If I were a wealthy man,

What would I do?  What would I do?

If I were a wealthy man,

I’d sell my diamonds to find you.

I’d travel on the seven seas with seven ships and seven sails,

For seven years and seven more

To bring you home again to me.


O, if you lived in water deep

Or mountain high or desert sand,

I’d give my life to win your love,

Forever wear your wedding band.


O, life is short and quickly gone

And love is precious more than gold;

And every night I spend alone,

My withered heart it turns to stone.



(Lyric Robert Burns, Music Jan Smith, ©2002, BMI)

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,

A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe,

My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go!


Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the north;

The birthplace of valour, the country of worth!

Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands forever I love.


Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow,

Farewell to the straths and green valleys below,

Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,

Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods!


My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,

A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe,

My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go!



(Jan Smith, ©1999/2004)



(Jan & Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1989, BMI)

The men of Balquhidder are restless tonight,

Waiting for the call to arms.

Prince Charlie has landed & soon we'll reclaim

Our nations, our homes, & our farms.

Long have we waited; long have we prayed;

Long has our nation been boiling, but stayed.

Prince Charlie will lead us

To take back what's long been our claim

And the moon will shine bright in Caledonia,

Alive with hope tonight.

And the moon will shine bright in Caledonia.

Once more, brothers, once more!


From Glenfinnan into December,

The Highlanders scattered the foe.

The pipes could be heard at each victory,

Claiming our nation once more.

On toward London we started,

But cruel winds blew hard on the field;

And at Culloden Moor near Inverness sure,

Prince Charlie was turned on his heels

At Ruthven then there was gathering of clans,

Murray, Lochiel, Perth, the best of all men.

O, those Highlander hearts and claymores were strong

In numbers to trample Duke Cumberland o'er.

But Bonnie Prince Charlie abandoned our cause.

Hope without hope, now the Highlanders dream

Of a hero or a king, anyone, anything,

That one day will set Scotland free.


APPAIN, MO CHRIDHE (Appin, My Heart)

(Dudley-Brian Smith, © 1999. BMI)

Appain, mo chridhe

Beannachd nan Athair-Mor

Chi mi na mor-bheana - Na loch allain

An gleann agam - Appain, mo chridhe

Appin, my heart.

Blessing from the Great Father;

The great mountains, beautiful lochs,

My own glen - Appin, my heart


Appain, mo chridhe

Aisling mi na thunuairsmise fada air falbh

Duthchas, mo chridhe,

Dachaigh na Gaidheal  - Appain, mo chridhe

Appin, my heart,

I dream of thee when I am far away;

Country of my heart,

land of the Gael;

Appin, my heart



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©2002)

‘Tis the same from age to age,

The have’s not the have-not’s remain

An ancient call of claim ‘neath the struggle to survive

So, we move and shift again. It’s a flight from town to glen

The old ways, the road, and the tin

And the struggle to survive

The cry so loud and so strong – ‘Go back where you belong!’

Aye, that’s the age-old wrong, but where do we belong?

It’s the wind that moves us on.


If we stand too long in one place,

‘Tis a fine or jail that we face

The shame and the absence of grace

Makes it harder to survive

I’ve got bairns who are ailing and sad;

Got a wife, never home has she had;

Lost a brother who wanted so bad to settle and survive.


They once said we couldn’t go home.

‘Leave this land,’ it’s theirs, now go on!

But where do the homeless belong and who lives there now,

Back where we belong?


You live on the lands of our name.

How long do you think you’ll remain?

There’s always one stronger who claims

You’ve no right to reside.

So it’s shift and shift again.

Helpless, pushed by a rich man’s whim;

A caravan full of my kin, all who struggle to survive.



(Jan Smith, ©2004)



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©2004, BMI)

I no longer speak the language;

I no longer talk the talk;

But I dream and love my homeland;

To one day return is my choice.

My father was forced in leaving.

In that, I had no say.

As the year’s roll by I’m longing

For a fine homecoming day.

I’ll ramble and roll – plan and I’ll shoulder

The extra labor to save

For the day I journey homeward

What a fine homecoming day.


Now you may think it strange my reason

With so many coming this way

That I would wish to go there

‘Unemployment will kill you’ you say.

My father was forced in leaving

And took that regret to his grave

But before he passed on he handed to me

The love of old Scotland the Brave.


Now I’ve only been home for a visit

But I’ve found it just as they say

The land of my forefathers owns me

And it calls me homeward again.



(Jan & Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1997< BMI)

I can see by your eyes and your bright, winning smile

You’re a lass who has come a long way

Gin (if) a guess is my choice, from the lilt in your voice,

You’re an island girl from fair Islay.

I have seen it before, you have come to these shores

For employment and meaning to stay.

Like the others, I’m sure, some braw lad to secure

‘Til your heart beats no more for Islay.

But sooner or later your thoughts turn and tempt you

Then over the water you’ll gaze.

And before very long comes the bonniest song and you’ll follow it home to Islay.


I remember sweet Meg who came to Inverbeg

An apprentice to the weaver MacTay.

She got homesick and sad and the weaver’s bright lad

Tried to get her mind off fair Islay.

He was clever and daring, dashing, sea-faring;

A lover of sea salt and spray.

But to win sweet Meg’s hand,

He did soon understand to establish his port at Islay


‘Tis an old tale but true; It can happen to you

As it has to so many before.

‘Cause an island girl’s heart gets heavy & dark

When it’s anchored too far from its shore.

She begins to regret kith and kin she has left

And she longs for the old ways of home.

Then one day like the mist or a lover’s last kiss,

In a moment she’s there, then she’s gone.



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1999, BMI)

Up the claymore, up the standard!

The pretender will come no more.

Stand your ground for Highland honour,

No deliverer from the tyrant's force!

Up the targe, then, to shield fair Scotland!

Pride of Wallace take the fore!

Up the claymore, up the standard!

The pretender will come no more!


When oppression's darkest hour came

Tyrant Geordie pressed the claim.

The hope of Scotland lay in Charlie

Raise the standard for old King James.

Gather round him, mighty chieftains...

Gather round him, you sons of war...

Listen close to Lord George Murray

And we'll knock on London's door


Drunken Charlie, where's your spirit?

Where's the French you said would come?

Where's the pride in Scotland's Highlands

You proclaimed to the pipes and drums?

O, sad Culloden, scar upon us, Charlie failed to understand

Gather ‘round now at Ruthven's calling

‘Round Lord George now, every clan!




(Jan & Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1993, BMI)

Close your eyes and dream of Hebridean Shore.

Let the wind take you home again to Hebridean Shore.


Gloaming in the glen, the smoky silent loch.

Heather in my hand, thistle in my heart.


Faces I have known never growing old.

Stories of the past from islands I call home.


Tend the fallen lamb, lead him to the fold;

Piper on the hill, Gaelic in my soul.



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1999, BMI)

Catriona, my darling, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!

Catriona, my lassie, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!

Come stay by my side, come lay in my arms

Catriona forever..Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!


As the Almighty’s blessed me, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o;

Thy face is the morning - the bright sun a-glow.

My blessing - thy presence beside as I go.

Thy hand I have taken, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!


Thy father has spoken, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!

To honour and care for, to have and to hold.

Thy heart is the moonlight in darkness a-glow.

Together to share all, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!


To grow old with grace, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!

Thy strength is my lantern, my pathway to show.

As God is my witness, no loneliness know.

Forever I’ll hold thee, Hoo-ri, Hoo-o!


GREYFRIAR’S BOBBY (Auld Jock’s Lament)

(Jan Smith, ©2004, BMI)

It’s been a long night on the beat

Rain and wind and sleet

Guarding the cold dark streets with Bobby.

Never had money or fame;

Don’t have a rich man’s name;

Seems I lose more than I gain. Don’t I, Bobby?

But a man’s as rich as a king

If he’s got just one loyal friend

To hold on until the end like Bobby.


I used to work on a farm; family safe and warm;

O, what a fine life it was – had a garden.

Then, we had a bad year, lost it all.

Everything just went wrong.

Now this city just don’t feel like home, I tell Bobby.

Now my health’s starting to fail;

Another night – another thug in jail.

But right by my side all the way is Bobby.

And I can make it from dusk to dawn

Through the night and beyond

‘Cause I’m never, never alone – I’ve got Bobby.



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1989, BMI)

Some say it's a miracle, others 'twas a spell.

Some believe in giants who danced 'til they fell

Beneath some darker power, into some cruel curse.

Whate'er the case they're standing still

In rings in Alba’s earth.

In the giants' dance there are whispers,

Whispers of some joyful song.

In the giants' dance, there's a sight to behold,

Of better days of long ago when the giants danced.


Across the sea they floated on water or air.

Or perhaps the giants swam beneath these islands fair.

Until some secret reason stopped them where they stood,

Stilled their songs and stories without a drop of blood.


It's cold beneath the stars...dark, except the glow

Of torchlight tourists who ask, but never know...

Why the giants danced.



(Jan Smith, ©1999/2004)



(Dudley-Brian Smith, ©1994, BMI)

All that is most dear has now been taken away

They laughed at all my tears,

And sent a braw lad to the grave.

My husband hung by Englishmen

His crime was he was poor.

Now their king demands my sons

With soldiers at my door

Who will till the earth? Who will cut the peat?

Who will build the dry-stane dykes?

Will it be the king?

Will the king mind my sheep that wander on the moor?

Now that he’s hung my husband dear

And marched my sons to war,

Will it be the king? Will it be the king?


For some dread, faceless king,

My sons were taken away;

And all that’s precious dies for naught

To fill some distant grave.

They stole a widow’s mite to fight a foreign war;

An empty croft (farm), a heart of woe

And silence on the moor.



(Dudley-Brian Smith, © 1999, BMI)

Take a warning out into the night

Through the mist on the moors,

Let everyone know of the danger.

They’ve come to take what’s ours, let’s gather together

And let them know that blood must flow

To cleanse and make all right again.


Let Stewart, MacLaurin, Gilchrist, Cameron

Set aside their strife, lift up the cross,

And take it ‘round the glen.

We’ll stand side by side, a gathering of families,

And stand before the ancient stone,

All families know there’s fire in the glen.


There’s a fire in the glen. There’s trouble in the air.

There’s a mist on the moors, be silent and beware.

There’s a fire in the glen. Let’s gather and prepare!


Send a message out across the darkness.

Hold fast and raise the signal

To every man, woman and child.

Let arms be lifted up to guard against any outsiders.

Let them know that blood with flow,

To cleanse and set all right again.