There was a man lived in the moon, lived in the moon, lived in the moon,
There was a man lived in the moon,
And his name was Aiken Drum.
Chorus
And he played upon a ladle, a ladle, a ladle,
And he played upon a ladle,
and his name was Aiken Drum.
And his hat was made of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese,
And his hat was made of good cream cheese,
And his name was Aiken Drum.
And his coat was made of good roast beef, of good roast beef, of good roast beef,
And his coat was made of good roast beef,
And his name was Aiken Drum.
And his buttons made of penny loaves, of penny loaves, of penny loaves,
And his buttons made of penny loaves,
And his name was Aiken Drum.
And his waistcoat was made of crust pies, of crust pies, of crust pies,
And his waistcoat was made of crust pies,
And his name was Aiken Drum.
And his breeches made of haggis bags, of haggis bags, of haggis bags,
And his breeches made of haggis bags,
And his name was Aiken Drum.
As I cam' in by Turra merkit
Turra merkit for tae fee
I met in wi' a fairmer cheil
Fae the Barnyards o' Delgaty
Chorus (after each verse):
Oh linten addie, toorin addie
Oh linten addie, toorin ay
Oh linten lourin, lourin lourin
The Barnyards o' Delgaty
He me promised the very best pair
Ever I set my een upon
Fin I got tae the Barnyards
There wis naethin' there but skin and bone
The auld black horse sat on its rump
The auld fite meer lay on her wime
For a' that I could hup an' crack
She wouldna rise at yokin' time
Oh aul' Meg Smith, she maks m' brose
And it's wi' her I canna gree
First a knot and syne a mot
And aye anither jelp o' bree
Fan I gang tae the kirk on Sunday
Mony's the bonnie lassie I see
Sittin' by her faither's side
An' winkin' ower the pews at me
Noo I can drink an' no be drunk
I can fecht and no be slain
I can sleep wi' anither man's wife
An' aye be welcome tae my win
But noo m' caunle is brunt oot
It's splutterin' fairly on the wane
Oh fare ye weel, ye Barnyards
Ye'll nivver catch m' here again
Chorus (sung after every verse):
Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Ho, ro, the rattlin' bog,
The bog down in the valley-o.
Now in that bog there was a tree,
A rare tree and a rattlin' tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that tree there was a branch,
A rare branch and a rattlin' branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that branch there was a limb,
A rare limb and a rattlin' limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that limb there was a nest,
A rare nest and a rattlin' nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now in that nest there was a bird,
A rare bird and a rattlin' bird,
And the bird in the nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that bird there was a feather,
A rare feather and a rattlin' feather,
And the feather on the bird,
And the bird in the nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
Now on that feather there was a bug,
A rare bug and a rattlin' bug,
And the bug on the feather,
And the feather on the bird,
And the bird in the nest,
And the nest on the limb,
And the limb on the branch,
And the branch on the tree,
And the tree in the bog,
And the bog down in the valley-o.
[Hugh Roberton was] a Scotsman from Glasgow, and the creator and conductor of the Glagow Orpheus Choir. He was also a prolific composer of choral music, much of it based around traditional Scottish songs and hymn tunes. I was a young teenager at the time of the Vera Lynn case and remember it well. The arguments contained in it illuminate some of the issues raised by your correspondents. There was never a disagreement that the verse of the song was basically "The Muckin' of Geordies Byre" but Hugh S. Roberton definitely wrote the chorus and all of the words. My father, who was his amanuensis at the time, testified to this in court. However the Vera Lynn camp and her recording company produced the royal piper and a couple of other old geezers from the piping field who swore blind that it was all a traditional air. My father always claimed they were given a bung to commit perjury to spare the 'Forces Sweetheart' the humiliation of losing the case. The whole thing divided public opinion right down the middle. Miss Lynn was, of course, a wartime heroine whilst my grandfather was a founder member of the Scottish Independent Labour party, a well known pacifist, socialist and was given the moniker 'The Red Kinight of Clydeside'. Curwen, his publisher were virtually bankrupted by the case and wobbled on for another fifteen years until they were conumed in an asset stripping takeover by the US conglomerate Crowell, Collier Macmillan.
Chorus (sung after every verse):
Westering home and a song in the air
Light in the eye and it's goodbye to care
Laughter o' love and a welcoming there
Isle of my heart my own one.
Tell me o' lands of the Orient gay
Speak o' the riches and joys of Cathay
Ay but it's grand to be wakin' at day
To find yourself nearer to Islay.
Where are the folk like the folk o' the west
Canty and couthie and kindly the best
There I would hie me and there I would rest
At hame wi' my ain folk on Islay.
On August 31, 2011 Leah Joy Sparks died peacefully at her parent’s home in Severn after a long battle against soft tissue sarcoma. Leah endured fifteen months of chemotherapy with seven different drugs and also radiation until she exhausted all of her options. To quote her oncologist, “You fought the fight and finished the race.”
Leah was born August 30, 1972, in Delaware, Ohio. In 1986 she lost her left leg to osteosarcoma during her first bout with cancer. She graduated magna cum laude from Harvard University in 1995 and held a Master’s in Library Science from the University of Maryland and a Master’s in Publishing from Oxford-Brookes University in Oxford, England.
Leah was employed as an intelligence analyst for the FBI in Baltimore. She was extremely dedicated to her job and it brought her great joy to work for the Bureau. She was given the Leadership Award by her FBI colleagues at Quantico, Virginia and was the student speaker at graduation. Leah wanted to be remembered for her integrity, her loyalty, and her love for her family and country. She was a voracious reader and enjoyed playing the Scottish fiddle and cycling; she once rode 54 miles using her biking prosthesis. She was a member of Severn United Methodist Church where she wrote the bi-monthly newsletter and prepared the weekly bulletins. She insisted on finishing the bulletin after being admitted to hospice eight days before her death.
Leah will be forever held in the hearts of her grateful parents, Rev. Dr. Kelly and Myra Sparks, her sister, Erin Sparks Talbot and her husband, Mark Talbot, of Moorestown, New Jersey. “Auntie Leah” will never be forgotten by Ethan and Spencer Talbot, Leah’s 7 year old twin nephews. Other survivors include Leah’s maternal grandmother, Mrs. James Holtsclaw of Charleston, West Virginia and paternal grandmother, Mrs. James Sparks of Hurricane, West Virginia. Leah was loved and respected by her many aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends.
Leah wanted everyone to remember her as she was before her illness. At her request, a private viewing for family only will be followed by a celebration of her life on Saturday, September 3rd, 2011 at Severna Park United Methodist Church in Severna Park, Maryland at 3:00 p.m. A private burial will follow.
In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to Leah’s favorite charity, the Ronald McDonald House
