When The Yella's On The Broom

A grey dreich day here today but found a bit a colour on Tuuch Hill. Brought to mind the Adam McNaughton's song written in tribute to the travelling folk of Scotland.

I ken ye dinna like it lass, the winter here in toon
For the scaldies a misca us, and they try tae bring us doon
And it's hard tae raise three bairns, in a single flae box room
But I'll tak ye on the road again, when the yella's on the broom.

When the yella' s on the broom, when the yella' s on the broom
I'll tak ye on the road again, when the yella's on the broom
The scaldies ca us tinker dirt, and they spurn oor bairn's in school
But fa cares fit the scaldies think, for the scaldies but a fool
They never hear the yarlin's song, nor see the flaxen bloom
For they're cooped up in hooses when the yella's on the bloom
Chorus
Nae sale for pegs or baskets noo, that used to bide our lives
But I seem to work at scaldies jobs, from nie o' clock till five
But we ca' nae man oor maister, when we own the warld roon
And I'll bid fareweel tae Breechin, when the yella's on the broom
Chorus
I'm weary for the springtime, when we tak the road aince mair
T ae the plantin and the fermin, and the berry fields O Blair
When we meet up wae oor kin-folk, frae a the country roon
And we yarn aboot wha'll tak the road when the yella's on the broom
Chorus