By Master Efenwealt Wystle
copyright © 1999 Scott F. Vaughan
Listen to it at Soundclick.com
All civilized lands love the highlander's pipes, but some folks they just don't agree
They like 'em far off in the mountains, or from deep beneath the sea
The average lad knows a song or two and a really good piper knows three
He'll play each tune 'till his face turns blue, then he'll play 'em again for free
chorus:
Oh, who kilt the piper? Who burnt his kilt?
Who cracked his chanter and made his bag wilt?
Who pulled out his fingers? Who broke all his bones?
And who was the bugger that buried his drones?
'Twas early or late one fine morning, 'twas six or seven or so
And the piper he was a playin'. 'Twas the fart of a god in his blow
Now this lad he was playin' tae early. He lost many a friend on that day
And when they found his poor body. All his limbs had been hacked away
We gathered the parts of his body, and threw them all into a sack.
We ripped all the arrows from his forehead, and pulled out the knife from his back
We found one arm in the bushes, and his head placed up on a pole
And it seems that each of his tushes had been torn off and stuffed up his hole.
We searched through the entire city for the fiend that had doon him in.
We found a Dutch mercenary with black greasy fur on his chin
There was also a Swede and a Norman, an Italian and a merchant from Crete
Well these lowly, un-scottish barbarians had never heard music sae sweet
They claimed that the song of the piper was the same as some poor tortured cat.
They admitted to treason and murder. Then they went to his grave and they spat.
A mountain of kilts jumped the scoundrels, and made them pay for their sins.
They beat 'em with golf clubs and cudgels and cursed 'em for what they had din.
And now every morn before sunrise, his ghost comes back from the grave
And he plays 'em a tune on his bagpipes, but he only knows Scotland the Brave.
This one is not necessarily a true story, but I'm sure most of us who have ever camped
at an SCA event have experienced something like it. Contrary to popular belief, I love to
hear well played pipes. I like them even better after breakfast. I've dedicated this piece
to my friend, Master Niall Dolphin (the artist formerly known as Niall MacFarlane). Maybe
you've heard him playing Star Wars or the Mickey Mouse Club on his pipes at Pennsic?
This work is copyright © 1999 by Scott F. Vaughan (aka Master Efenwealt Wystle). The
lyrics are published here for limited personal use only. Any other reproductions
(electronic, printed, audio, etc.) are prohibited. Vocal performance of the piece at
events and other functions of the Society for Creative Anachronism, Inc. is permissible so
long as the author is given credit.
The next song on the CD is When the Sun Was in Your Hair
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