Henry's Songbook

        Oh Lord thou kenst me well
        Though my name's MacPhee I try to be
        As English as yersel'

Oh God who sends us all things - partridge, grouse, and deer
Send the aristocracy to dae some hunting here
My loyal Royal ancestors who got me this estate
To please their English masters forced the folk to emigrate

I'm a simple Highland lairdie, so hear my lairdie's prayer
And always on the Sabbath I'll be yours for evermair
The fishing here is sacred, there's peace within the glen
Since you helped us clear the Highlands of the Sabbath-drinkin' men

The empty crofters shielings we've turned into pens
For sheep can aye be bought and sold, but men are - well: just men
You'll ken this fine, great shepherd, for you would do the same
Except your righteous English flock of double-barrelled name

How holy is Balmoral, now all our hymns are sung
By our betters down in Crathie in the Anglo-Saxon tongue
And should the Gaels return, and I am forced to flee
Let me be down in London town, nearer, my God, to thee

(as sung by Nigel Denver)