[Lyrics: Beth Malcolm/Trad.]
I live an alien life, really
To that which I grew up in
I leave my house before the sun comes up
And I am tired when I get home
The piano lid stays closed
Fatigued and unsatisfied by the modern working week
I come alive a little every weekend
Joining in with the revelry of the city on a Friday night
One evening I pass by the Captain’s folk music bar in Edinburgh
And decide to stop in
An old woman is singing a beautiful old song
[Trad.] “Busk busk, bonny lassie
Aye an come awa wi me
And I’ll tak ye tae Glenisla
Near bonny glenshee”
I think my Granny sang this to me, two decades ago
Or did I hear it muffled through a closed door
In my sleep maybe, while the grown ups were singing in the kitchen
It is a strange joy to stumble upon a room of people
Singing in praise of the wise mountains
Words and a tune I learned by folkmosis, years ago
I feel something swelling in my throat and it tastes like home
But the bar is full and my friends are waiting
There are glistening pints to be drunk at the jazz bar down the road