Cooncillors Cooried In Conclave – Songs Of Local Politics

In the days when we were Radicals a short time ago, we spouted much of Labour’s wrongs and of the people’s woe
We held that Whigs and Tories both had always tyrants been and bawled the people’s rights were lost those robbers vile between
And when we find that we shall need the people’s aid again, e’ll soon forget that Whigs we’ve turn’d although ‘tis now so plain
Our voices shall be raised once more as loud as e’er they’ve been, to spout and sing our treason songs and laugh at Prince and Queen
And thus again we’ll gull the crowd with pleasant wordy show As we did when we were radicals a short time ago
In the Days When We Were Radicals, tune In the Days When We Went Gypsying, words Edward Polin, from ‘Radical Renfrew’.

Alongside national issues, there are the local political songs about local political issues, in which councillors and landlords get kickings, alcohol is condemned, and local volunteer soldiers are praised. 1830s Paisley weaver Polin hammered ex-Radical town councillors with ‘In The Days When We Were Radicals’. The songs of national politics are an exception to the general rule that Scottish political songs make frequent use of humour, and are almost invariably serious going on deadly in tone. Songs about local politics employ the weapon of humour mercilessly. Attacks on town councillors featured much.
Warfare references were mixed into such songs. In 1842 Queen Victoria visited Edinburgh, but when she landed at Leith the Edinburgh councillors were still abed. Two broadsheets fired broadsides at them.

Hey Jemmie Forrest, are ye waukin yet, or are your Bailies snoring yet. If ye were waukin I would wait, ye'd hae a merry merry morning
The frigate guns they loud did roar, but louder did the Bailies snore and thought it was an unco bore to rise up in the morning
The Queen she’s come to Granton Pier, nae Provost and nae Bailies here. They’re in their beds, I muckle fear, sae early in the morning
Jemmie Forrest, tune Johnnie Cope
Up in the mornin's no for me, up in the morning early. The Bailies and I could never agree to rise in the morning early
Bright shines the sun frae east to west, the breeze is blawing rarely. The royal squadron's at the Pier, the Queen is landed fairly
It’s braw to tend on Majesty, and princes deck’d sae rarely. But what’s thae pleasures to a nap? It beats them hollow fairly
The Provost sabb’d and sigh’d and moan’d, “O, had I just been near her. I’ll greet and grunt and groan and die, neglect shall ne’er pay dearer”
The Provost’s Nap, tune Up in the Mornin Early

In Glasgow a broadsheet lyric assailed the Reformed Town Council, “Ye idiots of the rabble hail, Wha now in power so smoothly sail.” Another demanded ‘Who diddled the paupers?’ A Dundee broadsheet ‘New Comic Song’ made gentle fun of the Duke of Argyll at a civic event.

The Art Gallery had been opened don’t you see, by the Duke in style so fairly
So he dressed himself in style wi the Lass O Ballochmyle and cam doon tae the Carse O Gowrie Dairy

When socialists eventually gained political power and proceeded to enjoy in comfort the fruits of office they in turn came in for a bashing, of course. To the tune of ‘The White Cockade’ Iain Nicolson speaks in about 1950 of The Labour Provost of Glasgow.

Wi ma ermine coat and my office seal, for Socialism I am fu o zeal.
The principles of socialism are aa very well, bit ye mustnae forget tae look after yersel
So when the Queen cam’s tae see us aa Republican sentiments we’ll banish awa
On bended knees, or if it suits, on hunkers doon we’ll lick her boots

Verses of the Bo’ness ‘Lea-Rig’ song commented on various councillors, and said,

The Labour Councillors were there aa cooried in conclave
Keir Hardie’s Ghost wis pitten oot fur turnin in its grave

Local events could inspire satiric comment. ‘The Battle of Balfron’, warfare again, was a bloodless broadsheet tale of 1859 when the navvies of the Glasgow Water Works came to the town and threatened to riot. The citizenry sent to Stirling Castle for help from the 42nd Regiment, and the navvies retreated to their camp. The air is ‘Guy Fawkes’.

High glory to the old Black Watch, and dauntless Seventy-One, and glory to the Ninety-Two, who have such laurels won
And honour to the illustrious few who bravely led them on to the deathless and the bloodless field of the battle of Balfron
’Twas the morning of the eighth of March, and seven by the chime when rushed down from the Water Works some hundreds in their prime
Two hundred Irish labourers and Highland navvies ran like a torrent from the Water Works to the battle of Balfron

I have already quoted William Campbell’s lauding of Glasgow and Paisley Volunteers, and Burns’ celebration of the Dumfries Volunteers in ‘Does Haughty Gaul Invasion Threat?’ The slim poetry volumes in Stirling Library, unlike those in Paisley Library, offer few political comments other than songs that praise extravagantly the Volunteers of Stirling, Grangemouth and Leven.
‘Radical Renfrew’ offers us a song published in 1850 that seems at first to laud Volunteers in Paisley but proceeds to satirise them.

When I wi the laird did enlist, a volunteer loyal and clever, I swore fair or foul to resist the claims of the people forever
And with my sword, pistol and horse, I’m still ready, willing and able to scatter by physical force the low lousy radical rabble
O, hing up the speech making loons, an riddle them through with your bullets infesting like rattons the towns and ready to pounce on our wallets
And try if the cat-and-nine-tails can keep them content wi their drummock, wha basely the corn-law assails for pinching their back and their stomach
What were the land-owners to do wha now in their carriages caper an live aa so het and so fu, were victual and land to be cheaper?
Nae doubt it would better the poor, and mak them more happy and healthy but wha such a change would endure when made at the cost of the wealthy?
When I Wi The Laird Did Enlist, tune Tak it Man, Tak It, words Alex McGilvray

Volunteer songs in Stirling Library’s collection are more straighforward, though the assertions of high military prowess of local forces is suspect. David Taylor’s praise of Stirling heroes and their ability to repel French invaders was published after France and Britain had been allies in the Crimea. Garibaldi had just won his great 1859 and 1860 successes in Italy.

Foul fa the louns wha jeer an gibe the scions o the hero tribe. Let’s rather honour still ascribe to our leal Volunteer boys
Hey the winsome, ho the handsome, gallant Volunteer boys
Blessins on them ane an aa, our valiant Volunteer boys
The British lion’s a towsie tyke, an let the French come when they like
They’ll settle them wi ball and pike, our bold brave Volunteer boys
Great Garibaldi, true an brave, wha gars the flag o freedom wave
Wad be richt proud, I ween, to have sic noble Volunteer boys
From ‘Poems and Songs’, David Taylor, published Stirling 1862, tune not named

Robert Buchanan of Falkirk goes further over the top. His mighty heroes, like Campbell’s Renfrew Volunteers, were ready to take on and thrash Napoleon before any other Volunteers got there. ‘Nap Hectoring’ refers to Napoleon loudly seeking to act like brave ancient Greek hero Hector.

Come sing the glorious victories won of yore, by land and sea, the gallant deeds of valour done by Scotia’s sons, the free
But here’s a nobler roundelay, which all delighted hears. Tis the name, and the fame, and the dauntless game of the Grangemouth Volunteers
Once on a time, mid war’s alarms, Nap Hectoring, o’er the way for Waterloo resolved to make Old England reckoning pay
But ere his precious schemes were formed, a glorious host appears And firm in the van of the mighty clan were the Grangemouth Volunteers
From ‘Falkirk’, by Robert Buchanan, sung at an 1865 supper in Grangemouth, tune The Breist Knots

Katherine Drain’s more sober admiration is for what were later called Territorial soldiers, intended to fight close to home, but here being honoured for active service, presumably in South Africa.

Last week I went to Stirling to see the grand review, our gallant active service men, our brave red white and blue
Called out by Sergeant Lindsay, they marched up bold and free, and foremost stood our Leven lads of D. R. V.
King Edward’s representative, who everybody knows, Buchanan Castle’s noble lord, his Grace Duke of Montrose
He gave the badge of honour then, a glorious sight to see, what joy it gave our sturdy men of D. R. V.
From ‘Loch Lomond Rhymes’, Katherine Drain, published Glasgow 1902, tune not named

Temperance movements fought to rid cities and towns of the scourge of the bottle. In the 1951 People’s Festival Ceilidh the temperance song ‘The Ale House’ was sung. Another such, ‘Nancy Whisky’, became a Revival favourite and was localised from Dublin to the Calton in Glasgow though the anti-drink message was not noticed by singers, and other hymns to sobriety faded from sight. The radical weavers of Paisley, and Sandy Rodger of Glasgow, balanced verse and song on the evils of drink against other effusions praising the festive bowl.
Here are two versions of ‘Nancy Whisky’, various tunes used
This seven long years I’ve been a weaver, until my wages they were pulled down
And to buy myself a new suit of clothes I took my way up to Dublin town
As I was walking up Dublin city Nancy Whisky I chanced to smell
I thought it proper to call in and see her for seven years I had loved her well
Published by the Poet’s Box, Dundee
Ah’m a weaver, a Calton weaver, Ah’m a rash and a rovin blade
Ah’ve got siller in ma pooches, Ah’ll go follow the rovin trade
As ah gaed in by Glesga city Nancy Whisky ah chanced tae smell
I gaed in, sat doon beside her, seven years I lo’ed her well
Glasgow version, as sung by Hughie Martin of Shettleston

Local campaigns against perceived injustice were supported in song. Sandy Rodger wrote three songs supporting the 1823 action for “securing the liberty of the banks of Clyde, when the public were likely to be deprived of that privilege by the rapacity of Tam Harvey”, who had barred a public footpath. In 1920 a rent strike began in Clydebank against unreasonable rent increases by the factors. The strike lasted till 1927, and was organised and led by Clydebank women. Inventive tactics of mass action and non-violent resistance, and legal arguments were used. When an eviction took place, as the furniture was being carried out of the house it would be put back in through the windows, and the ‘theme song’ of the strike was said to be the children’s song, “Go in and out the windows, Go in and out the windows, Go in and out the windows, As you have done before”.In the 1980s broadcaster and writer Billy Kay made a series of programmes for the BBC, ‘Odyssey, Voices From Scotland’s Recent Past’. The programmes mixed interviews with old songs and new ones specially written. One programme was on the ‘Clydebank Rent War’, for which the author wrote a number of incidental lyrics, some based on children’s songs, from which the following verses are drawn.

Hard up, kick the can, Clydebank factors have a plan
They’ll be sorry they began when they see the Rent Strike
Hard up, pockets out, tell them what it’s all about
Wave yer banner, raise the shout, we support the Rent Strike
What’s the factor greetin for? Tripped himsel, skint his jaw
Noo he’s greetin for his maw, canny get his rent increase
Tell yer boss, no more snash, tell yer boss, no more cash
Tell his nibs he’s no on, we live here and we’re no gaun

Special handbells were cast in the shipyards and rung to summon help when someone was threatened with eviction.

If ye see the factor comin, ring the bell, be an educated wumman, ring the bell
And he’ll never pit ye out, for we know what it’s about and we’ll aa be there tae shout “Go tae hell”

In January 2001 the Southside Baths campaign began in Glasgow, and was strongly supported through song. Key songmaker Alistair Hulett explains.

“I got involved in that campaign because I was living right in Govanhill where the baths are located. Glasgow City Council decided, against the will of the majority of residents in the area, to shut the facility down. A decision was taken by local activists to occupy the building and we maintained that occupation for over 150 days. It was a huge operation, self-organised by the local community. So long as we had people inside the building we needed a 24 hour picket outside. People who had never taken part in any political campaign in their lives were signing up to sit outside a darkened pool building throughout the night and we kept that going right through winter into spring and summer.
“One of the ways to keep ourselves solid and strong was to sing, and I began making up funny wee parodies about the pool campaign. People in the campaign got well into it and songwriting became a big craze on the picket line. 'It's A Lang Way Tae Bellahouston' and 'This Pool is My Pool' were two of the most popular early ones. We were doing a kind of 'flying picket' thing as well, visiting other council facilities around Glasgow and occupying them too, to publicise our campaign. The songs were a good way of defusing any tension and keeping these actions light hearted and non threatening to the council workers at these other facilities.
“Every Wednesday night we all used to gather outside the pool to show solidarity with the ones inside and sing our songs. Soon we had enough for a songbook that we produced locally and sold to get money for the ongoing occupation. Later we made a CD and sold that in the local chippie. Other folk singers in the area got involved in that too, Mick and Irene West, Gavin Livingstone and Claire Quinn and some others. It was totally a grass roots thing, and once the local campaigners got the songwriting bug, they were all at it.
“At Xmas time we went out carolling with a songbook of ‘Pool Carols’. 'Storm The Halls Of City Chambers' was my personal favourite, that and 'God Help Ye Hairtless Cooncillors'. The upshot has been that the reopening of the pool is moving forward steadily, although after 150 days the police were sent in to smash the occupation. That was a huge stooshie but several hundred people fought bravely to save our control of the building.
“The cops and sheriff's officers wrecked the place though, so the occupation was no longer feasible. Anyway, there's a date set now for the reopening, thanks to the stalwarts who have fought on through other means to save the pool, so that's an example of political song, albeit pretty light-hearted stuff, helping keep a campaign going that eventually won.” Alistair Hulett
Two CDs of parodies were recorded. The campaign’s Christmas song book uses and misuses several carols.

God help ye hairtless cooncillors that stole oor pool away, tae pay ye back we’ll kick ye oot come next election day
We’ll gie ye aa yer jotters, ye’ll be signin on the broo, an ye’ll no be toddlin doon tae the front o the queue
On the first day of Closure the Cooncil gied tae us a pool ye cannae reach wi’oot a bus
On the twelfth day of Closure the Cooncil gied tae us, Twelve mair campaigners, Eleven points of grievance
Ten horses chargin, Nine weans a-greetin, Eight polis lyin, Seven metal shutters
Six Sheriff’s men, Five hundred cops, Four white vans, Three hired hacks
Two useless stooges and a pool ye cannae reach wi’oot a bus

Other carols included ‘The First No Well’ when local councillors called in sick and missed the crucial voting, and ‘Deck the Halls’ turned into ‘Storm the doors of City Chambers’.

Storm the doors of City Chambers, fan the flames and waft the embers, let them know when we assemble we’re the wans who’ll mak them tremble

Kick the Cooncil up the backside, celebrate the new Red Clydeside, John Maclean is here in spirit, his tradition we inherit

When it’s all been done and dusted, power tae those who can be trusted
Down with all who push and shove us, drunk and bloated on force and guile
Down with all who stand above us power tae the rank and file