Power to the singers: Scots, English, politics and policies

There's mair nor a roch wind blawin'
Through the great glen o' the warld the day
(H. Henderson, Freedom come all ye, 1960)

The connection between history and song, whether popular, radical, or both, is long and well–established in many countries, as tradition, politics and chronicle have often blended in an expressive form capable of eliciting powerful emotional response on a collective scale.

In Scotland, many very important instances may be singled out, and other contributions in this issue are going to shed light on their political and historical value. Here I intend to focus on the main linguistic traits of a few interesting cases, in order to highlight the relationship existing between Scots, English and the expression of political stance and/or social identity in texts ranging from Modern times to the twentieth century. Lexical choices, especially when their connotation as identity markers becomes well-established, such as in the case of overt Scotticisms like bonnie or wee, may function as the most obvious signals of a certain socio–historical affiliation. Syntax, instead, is not always and not necessarily as clear an indicator of a specific relationship existing (or supposed to exist) among the parties—in this case the singers and their audiences, or indeed the singers themselves, if the audience is expected to join in.

In what follows I intend to outline a few interesting traits in a range of cases which we may assume to be emblematic in the history of Scottish song, in an attempt to identify the linguistic features which make them particularly valuable as identity flagships, and assess how they relate to the history of Scots and English in Scotland. Gaelic, which nonetheless has contributed greatly to Scottish song lore, is beyond the scope of this contribution.

A very brief overview of Scottish song lore across time (18th–20th centuries)

It is fascinating to investigate the relationship between music, lyrics, history and popular culture at different points in time. While change is of course inevitable, though often unpredictable, certain constant features may prove intriguing. In this contribution I will focus on Jacobite songs, on Kailyard nostalgia, on songs of emigration, and on radical song, as four key areas in which tradition and identity have found specific expressive tones in popular music, in order to investigate what their linguistic traits may tell us about the way in which perceptions of Scots and English may have changed over time.

Jacobite songs

It would be difficult to overstate the contribution of song to the popularization of history, especially when oral history is concerned: though centuries may have elapsed, certain figures become eternal in popular song, such as in the case of Bonnie Dundee: though the ballad concerns John Graham of Claverhouse, 1st Viscount Dundee (1648-1689), it is still in the repertoire of present–day folk singers. Indeed, in the so—called 'age of feeling', an edulcorated view of Jacobitism and its dramatic aftermath were among the most appealing topics. Especially in the nineteenth century, the romanticized story of Charles Edward Stuart's escape as 'Betty Burke' was immensely popular.

The idealization of the Jacobite legend was epitomized in what is perhaps the best–known tune to have been associated with the Young Chevalier's escape, 'The Skye Boat Song', based on a Gaelic air, but first published in 1884 (and actually re–written by Robert Louis Stevenson in his Songs of Travel, of 1895), long after the events to which the lyrics refer.

What has long been accepted as a traditional Jacobite song is in fact a literary artefact in which the contribution of popular culture is restricted to the tune, while the lyrics are the product of highly educated authors. A similar phenomenon is seen in other Jacobite songs (see, among others, Donaldson 1988 and Pittock 2009), such as 'Charlie's my darling', or 'Will ye no come back again', authored respectively by James Hogg and Lady Nairne.

The creation of these songs, many of which sounded like ordinary love songs, but which (often barely) hid a political message, helped that 'invention of tradition', in which the Jacobite cause was reinterpreted as a Highlands vs. Lowlands, Scotland vs. England, opposition, while in fact loyalties were much less clear-cut. Indeed, the popularity of Jacobite airs has always been such that it has not been uncommon for Scottish country dance steps to be set to them,¹ as the relationship between music, song and dance has always been a feature of Scottish popular culture as expressed in ceilidhs throughout the country.

Emigrant Songs

Though it may seem paradoxical, dance has also been an expression of the Scots' relationship with emigration. In the late twentieth century Runrig wrote 'A Dance Called America' (1984), recalling the reel described by James Boswell in his Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides (1785; Sat. 2 October 1773):

In the evening the company danced as usual. We performed, with much activity, a dance which, I suppose, the emigration from Sky has occasioned. They call it 'America'. Each of the couples, after the common involutions and evolutions, successively whirls round in a circle, till all are in motion; and the dance seems intended to shew how emigration catches, till a whole neighbourhood is set afloat. Mrs M'Kinnon told me, that last year when a ship sailed from Portree for America, the people on shore were almost distracted when they saw their relations go off; they lay down on the ground, tumbled, and tore the grass with their teeth. This year there was not a tear shed. The people on shore seemed to think that they would soon follow.

The same dance is cited in the 1939 movie Gone with the Wind and it is still popular in today's ceilidhs as the Virginia Reel. However, the song by Runrig may in fact be seen as a political song, on account of its lyrics, fiercely critical of the Clearances.² [...]

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¹ For examples of two other very popular tunes, see 'Hey, Johnnie Cope' and 'The Bonnie House of Airlie'.

² As we said above, songs about history have often been written as late as several decades after the events: this is the case, for instance, also of 'The Massacre of Glencoe', written by Jim McLean in 1963, i.e. almost three centuries later.