The brand new album of Twilight

1- Devil in the Kitchen Set Achetez Shades of Music…
2- The Wife of Usher’s Well
3- Eileen And Set  At shows: $ 20 CAD
4- Afton Water
5- Lilting Music-Tree Set At Sillons the Disquaire (1149 Cartier Avenue)
6- The Broom of Cowdenknowes
7- The Oyster Wife’s Rant Set By mail order: $ 23 CAD payable by …
8- Mary Young and Fair – Paypal 
9- Mrs Lyall Set

– Money Order (to Dominic Haerinck, 29 Mgr Déziel, Quebec, PQ, G1E-2T6)

10- Ailein Duinn
11- Lochaber Dance Set
12- The Road to Drumleman CD Baby
13- The Sound of Sleat SetTemps total : 61’28”


                  The first album of Twilight

1- The lad that keeps the cattle

Buy Border (there are still some!)

2- Breas of Strathblane
3- Traditional hornpipe At the shows: $ 18 CAD
4- Until morning
5- The wood of Fyvie By mail order: $ 21 CAD payable by …
6- Highland lullabye
7- Gie me a lass wi’a lump o’ land – Money Order (to Dominic Haerinck, 29 Mgr Déziel, Quebec, PQ, G1E-2T6)
8- Itchy fingers
9- Tom in the green cap
10- Maggie Cameron
11- Faerie radeTotal time :

Border Lyrics

Breas o Strathblane

(Scottish text and music)


As I went a walking one morning in May,
Down by yon green meadows I careless did stray.
I then spied a fair maid was standing her lane,
And bleaching her claes on the braes of Strathblane.

I stepped up to her then as I seemed  to pass,
« You’re bleaching your claes here my bonny young lass.
It’s twelvemonth since I had your love in my mind,
All for to get married if you are inclined. »

« To marry, to marry, lad I am too young.
Besides you young men have a flattering tongue.
My father and mother would both be angry
If I was to marry a rover like thee. »

« O hand your tongue lassie, and do not say so.
You know not the pain that I do undergo.
Consent my dear lassie for to be my ain,
And we’ll live happy on the braes of Strathblane. »

« O tempt me no longer this fair maid did say,
You would be far better to go on your way ;
I’d think myself happy to stay here my lane

Than with you wander on  the braes of Strathblane. »

Then I turned around with a tear in my eye :
« I wish you a good one, » to the maid said I.
« I wish you a good one as we’re here our lane
While I court again on the braes of Strathblane. »

« O stay awhile laddie you’ve quite won my heart,
For here is my hand love who never shall part;
No never we shall part till the day we do.
May all good attend us and our love be true. »

O  now you’ve consented, it’s too late my dear.
For my heart is changing, as I’m standing here.
The clouds look so heavy, I fear we’ll have rain,
Let’s shake hands and part on the braes of Strathblane. »

« Now all you pretty maids wherever you be,
Do not slight a young man for his poverty ;
For slighting such young men I fear you’ll get nane,
So single I wander the braes of Strathblane. »




Until morning

(text and music D. Haerinck)


Foam on the western seas

Is tinged with vermeil,

When falls from his heavenly tower

Gently the sun.


Hear the nightingale singing

His evening hymn,

An air with dazzling notes,

Glittering in the dark.


The night has spread its veil

Fresh and dark velvet

Embroidered with bright stars

Welcoming the penumbra.


Winter and the frost of the soul

Are nothing but dust

Because long are the hands of the flames

And blessed the light.


The laughs of the mandolin

And the singing of oboes

Let’s go to the hills,

The valleys and the woods.


The day that escapes far behind

Is still far ahead.

Let’s dance in the hands of the earth

And the embrace of the wind.


Drums and bagpipes

Will fight fiercely

The hands and hearts of the guests,

Companions or lovers.


Blow in the fresh and green woods

The perfumes of our voices,

As the singers sing

Sweet or petty songs.


The fire illuminating the night,

Up to the vaults of heaven

Draw on the ground around him

Silent dancers.


Dance, young or old feet

Goofy or deadly!

Dance to the sound of the musicians

Until the new dawn.


Highland lullabye

(Scottish text, D. Haerinck music)


I left my baby lying here,
Lying here, lying here.
I left my baby lying here
To go and gather berries O !


I  found the wee brown otter’s track
Otter’s track, otter’s track.
I found the wee brown otter’s track
But not a trace of baby, O !


Refrain :

Hovan, Hovan Gorry and O,

Gorry and O, Gorry and O.
Hovan, Hovan Gorry and O,

I do not find my baby, Oh!


I found the swan upon the lake

On the lake, on the lake.
I found the swan upon the lake
But not the track of baby, O !


I found  the mountain’s silver mist
Silver mist, silver mist.
I found the mountain’s silver mist
But could not track my baby, O !




I heard the curlew crying far,

Crying far, crying far.

I heard the curlew crying far,

But never heard my baby O !


I searched the moorland tarns and then,

Wandered through the silent glen.

I saw the mist upon the ben,

But never saw  my baby O !




Tom in the green cap

(text and music D. Haerinck)


Refrain :


Cut the hay, milk the cows,

Sow the seeds after the winter.

No wonder that we tear ourselves away

The leprechaun with green hat.


For my work, I do not require

Only a sprig of cream, a bowl of milk,

A little honey and beer.

This is the present that I like.




Do not give me more:

No clothes or gold coins.

Would not stay around

Great labors and great remorse.




A boost for tasks

Too long for the day too short.

But I only give loose hearts

Bread coming out moldy oven.




And the farmer who revolts,

Clamating that my work is vain,

Will see his oxen and his crops

Diving in a deep ravine.







Gie me a lass wi a lump o land

(text Allan Ramsay 1684-1758, music D. Haerinck)


Gi’e me a lass with a lump of land,

And we for life shall gang thegither;

Tho’ daft or wise I’ll never demand,

Or black or fair it maks na whether.

I’m aff with wit, and beauty will fade,

And blood alane is no worth a shilling;

But she that’s rich her market’s made,

For ilka charm about her is killing.


Gi’e me a lass with a lump of land,

And in my bosom I’ll hug my treasure;

Gin I had anes her gear in my hand,

Should love turn dowf, it will find pleasure.

Laugh on wha likes, but there’s my hand,

I hate with poortith, tho’ bonny, to meddle;

Unless they bring cash or a lump of land,

They’se never get me to dance to their fiddle.


There’s meikle good love in bands and bags,

And siller and gowd’s a sweet complexion;

But beauty, and wit, and virtue in rags,

Have tint the art of gaining affection.

Love tips his arrows with woods and parks,

And castles, and riggs, and moors, and meadows;

And naithing can catch our modern sparks,

But well-tocher’d lasses or jointur’d widows.




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