#And dougie maclean

[kassasnek]

The Hozier, to Irish music, to bluegrass, to country music pipeline

[chiropteracupola]

I feel so near to the howling of the wind / Feel so near to the crashing of the waves / Feel so near to the flowers in the field...

[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea!]

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

!!!!! Listen there is so much great music from the traditional celtic music revival of the 70s-90s— battlefield band, alison kinnaird, clannad, brian macneill, ossian, the corries, etc etc etc— that is NOWHERE on youtube or spotify but this EVEN MORE OBSCURE tv show ost by the chieftains (whose other more known work is yes nowhere to be found!!), that i never hoped to find again, some blessed person has gone through the trouble of converting from vinyl to cassette to mp3 and uploaded to youtube and I’M EXTREMELY GRATEFUL

[flootdraws]

And I should have realized

I had no reasons to be frightened

But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready

I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm

[krispyweiss]

James Taylor, Karen Matheson and Dougie MacLean Ring out 1997 with “Auld Lang Syne”

Twenty-six years ago tonight, James Taylor took a back seat to home-country singers Karen Matheson and Dougie MacLean as they performed “Auld Lang Syne” to close BBC Scotland’s “Hogmanay” program.

Like most versions of the perennial song, this one is wistful, a marked contract to the rowdy, in-their-cups audience members who hoot and dance to the music in their heads as Taylor, Matheson and MacLean wrap up their work night.

Taylor, who sings background and cedes verses to his hosts, has spent the last few weeks releasing individual tracks from this show; whether his vault series continues in 2024, we’ll have to wait to learn. In any event, this is an appropriate end to 2023, but, it is hoped, not the archival releases.

12/31/23

[demac9]

Dougie MacLean - Always Waiting Here (Lyrics On Screen)

[krebstar3000]

Dougie Maclean - Gin I Were a Baron's Heir

[imk333]

Heimweh

[scotianostra]

Dougie MacLean paid tribute to Alex Salmond with a performance of Caledonia at today's memorial in Edinburgh 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

[i-cast-zone-of-truth]

To me there is very little as soothing as being blasted full force by a good bagpipe solo

[stardustrebels]

This Love Will Carry- A Marcus Pike x f!reader One Shot

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader New Year’s Eve/ Hogmanay One Shot Rating: T/ PG-13. WC: 1k

Tags: Fluffy fluff, Epic NYE kisses, No use of Y/N, No physical descriptions of reader. 

A/N: I had the urge to write something cute for New Year's Eve. I didn’t quite get round to my planned Marcus Pike- in- Edinburgh story I wanted to write this year, and following the news that the Hogmanay Street Party has been cancelled this year due to the weather, I wanted it to live on in spirit through the rose-tinted romanticisation it deserves. I hope you enjoy this hastily written fluffy fic set at Hogmanay! The title is from my favourite Dougie MacLean song, if you fancied a lovely song to accompany your reading! Happy New Year to you when it comes- Lang may yer lum reek! 

The air was crisp, tinged with the unmistakable scent of burnt out sparklers as the clock ticked ever-closer to midnight. The city of Edinburgh had outdone itself for Hogmanay. Thousands of revellers filled the streets, their laughter and cheers blending with the distant strains of music echoing from Princes Street Gardens. Above them, the imposing outline of Edinburgh Castle stood proud, bathed in a soft golden glow. 

Marcus Pike adjusted the scarf around his neck, a nervous habit as much as a shield against the biting cold. You stood beside him, soaking in all the excitement from the other people around you who’d climbed to the top of Salisbury Crags to get a better view of the fireworks, your breath misting in the air as you gazed across the city. 

“I always forget how beautiful it is up here,” you said, looking up at him. He didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes lingered on your profile, illuminated by the glow of torchlight around you from people who had been much more prepared than you two- you’d decided to climb up here impulsively an hour before the bells, encouraged by Marcus on a whim after you’d shared stories about watching the fireworks from there as a child. 

Your cheeks were flushed, whether from the climb in the cold or the whisky you’d shared earlier as you rushed up the hill, he wasn’t sure. 

Marcus managed a small smile, but any words he was about to say caught in his throat at the sight of you. Instead of speaking, he took a moment to let his gaze wander across the scene: the city sprawled below, its lights twinkling like scattered stars. The distant hum of celebration rose to meet the rocky outcrop of the hill. It was breathtaking, yes, but none of it compared to the way you looked right now- he was certain the moment would lose all of its magic if you weren’t in it. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice low and soft, “It’s beautiful.” 

Below, the crowd began to cheer as the countdown to the New Year began, their voices rising in unison, the crowd around you joining in as the sound reached the top of the hill. 

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Slightly out of sync in the most endearing way. You laughed at the sound; a carefree laugh, full of unbridled joy. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. You joined in with the count, glancing up at Marcus, the flickering torchlight bathing your face in a gold glow, your eyes reflecting the distant shimmer of the city lights. 

Seven. Six. Five. 

Marcus reached out silently and took your gloved hand in his; any sound would be lost in the swell of the crowd’s excitement. You looked back at him, brows lifting in question. 

Four. Three. 

His free hand cupped your cheek and you leaned in instinctively, breath catching as his thumb brushed against your skin. 

Two. 

Your eyes darted between his, taken aback by the adoration in his gaze. He closed the gap between you, trying to steady himself against the nervous flutter in his chest. You smiled, your breath hitching as you closed the gap. He was so close you could feel his breath, the warmth chasing away the cold against your cheek. 

One. 

Your lips met his as the fireworks burst in to life above you. The sky exploded in a riot of gold, red and green, the light cascading the hilltop in a bright wash of colour, illuminating the crowd that had gathered there. They faded in to the background as you leaned in to the kiss. All that mattered was the warmth of Marcus’ mouth on yours, soft and searching. 

His hand on your cheek steadied you, the scratchiness of his glove a sharp contrast to the tenderness of his touch. The other slid to your waist, tentative at first, then firm as you leaned against him. You could taste the lingering traces of whisky on his lips, the peat and honey mingling with the faint hint of peppermint from the gum he’d obviously been chewing moments before. 

Marcus exhaled against your mouth, although you couldn’t hear it over the sound erupting around you, it felt like a reverent sigh, like he couldn’t quite believe he was kissing you. You felt the tension in his arms ease, the weight of long-standing hesitant longing dissolving in to the kiss. He wasn’t rushing- he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like the moment could stretch forever if you let it. 

Your hands found their way to the lapels of his coat, clutching the fabric to anchor yourself. When you shifted slightly, deepening the kiss, you felt the faint hitch in his breath. A soft, unspoken plea for more. 

The fireworks above grew louder as the display reached its crescendo, their booming echoes providing the bass drum to the tenor beat of your heart thrumming in your ears. 

When you finally pulled apart, it was only because you needed air. Your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cold, both of you unsteady on your feet. Marcus’ eyes fluttered open, his dark brown eyes meeting yours as he pulled away to look at you properly. 

His gaze was soft, like you were the only other person in the world, the bustling crowd and fireworks forgotten. The torchlight around you flickered across his face, casting shadows over his strong jaw and highlighting the faint pink that dusted his cheeks. His lips were parted, flushed from the kiss. He looked at you like you were something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire city had fallen silent, just for you two.

“Happy New Year!” You exclaimed, joy bubbling over as you kissed his cheek, looking up at him with a smile that was so wide your cheeks were starting to hurt. 

Marcus laughed, his hand still resting against your cheek. He showered your face with kisses until you squealed for him to stop, laughing as out-of-time choruses of Auld Lang Syne began around you. 

“Happy New Year,” he yelled over the singing, pulling you close.

As the fireworks continued to light up the sky around the city, Marcus tightened his hold on you, watching as the pops of colour reflected in your eyes as you smiled up at him. For the first time in a long time, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

THE GAEL from The Last of the Mohicans - Breizh Pan Celtic

Breizh Pan Celtic offers a Brittany-Ireland version of The Gael, the famous music from the film The Last of the Mohicans, composed by Dougie MacLean. The Pan Celtic festival usually takes place each year in Ireland the week after Easter, and brings together representatives of all the Celtic nations for competitions and performances of Celtic music, song, dance and languages. The festival is canceled in 2022 for the third consecutive year due to health measures. We wish to testify by this video of our support and our attachment to the cultural exchanges between the Celtic countries, of which the harp is the prestigious heritage. Ancient and modern harps coexist here happily. We especially thank our Irish friends Siobhan Buckley and his harp school Music Generation Laois for this collaboration.

[devilsupdates]

Period 1 of preseason

My moms word of the game: fuck

•Nathan Bastian takes a tripping penalty 27 seconds into the game.

•1-0 them. Islanders power play goal

•Mercer rips one off the iron.

•Dougie twice saves the puck at the blueline and the Hischier line gets in a great shift, between Mercer wiring the puck off the post, Nico's wrap around attempt. Nice pressure shift there.

•Dawson Mercer nearly had one. His one timer off a beautiful feed from Dougie Hamilton hits the bar.

•2-0 Islanders. Breakwaay Kyle MacLean 🫣

•First game back for Erik Haula, but tough turnover there.

•Holy Semyon Varlamov.

•Stones Mercer not once, not twice, but three times.

•Dawson Mercer was just denied on his backhand off his own rebound when Varlamov made a great last-ditch-effort save.

•will get their first PP of the game. Simon Nemec was tripped.

•They're starting with Tatar, Haula. Noesen, Palat and Nemec .

•Without Jack tonight Dawson Mercer jumps into the formation with Bratt, Hischier, Meier and Hamilton.

•Cotter getting a couple of double shifts. He's out with Lazar and Bastian as the power play seconds expired.

• Nemec to the box. (Found Nemo)

•3-0 Islanders. A blast from Bo Horvat on the power play.

•15 seconds remaining in the period.

End of first period

[tmae3114]

"How are you enjoying London?"

"I have listened to six different artists' covers of Dougie MacLean's Caledonia in the past two weeks"

"Oh, you've got The Yearning"

"I have The Yearning so badly yeah"

[baddawgsports]

Devils Triumph Over Capitals on the Mom's Trip: A Close 3-2 Victory

Photo Credit: Andrew Maclean and New Jersey Devils Washington, DC — In front of the team moms, the New Jersey Devils take down the Capitals in the nation’s capital for the second time this season. Tomas Tatar and Brenden Dillon were the unlikely goal scores while Dougie Hamilton also chipped in with a goal as the big defenseman starts to heat up a quarter of the way through the season. On the…

[scotianostra]

On 3rd June, 1774, Paisley poet, Robert Tannahill, was born.

I covered Robert Tannahill in a post less than a month ago, so will just give a weee rundown on him this time.

Paisley’s weaver poet was born in Castle Street, son of a well-respected ‘bien’ weaver to whom Robert was apprenticed in 1786. Described by a contemporary as the ‘prettiest shuttler’ he had ever seen, Robert had a wee box on his loom-post for jotting down his ideas.

At his cottage in Queen Street he composed, most of his best known songs. An admirer of Burns, he helped found the Burns Anniversary Society in 1805 in Paisley – the world’s first Burn’s club. In 1807, encouraged by friends, he published “The Soldiers Return” with poems and songs which made him famous.

When a publisher declined a revised edition in 1810, and after a mental illness, the poet drowned himself in a culvert of the Candren Burn.

Tanahill’s poems and songs are still popular today – ‘Jesssie the Flower o’ Dunblane’,’Will ye go Lassie go’,’ Thou Bonnie Woods o’ Craigielee and of course "The Braes o' Balquhidderare "among the more well known.

With weather reports saying parts of the mountains in the Highland might see snow, yes it's June! So Gloomy Winter's Noo Awa will hopefully chase those snow showers away, this arrangement is by Dougie MacLean.

Gloomy Winter's now awa, Saft the westlan breezes blaw ; Mang the birks o Stanely shaw The mavis sings fu cheerie, O ;

Sweet the crawflower's [1] early bell Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell, Blooming like thy bonnie sel, My young, my artless dearie, O.

Come my lassie, let us stray O'er Glenkilloch's [2] sunny brae, Blythely spend the gowden day, Midst joys that never weary, O.

Tow'ring o'er the Newton wuds, [3] Lav'rocks fan the snaw white clouds, Siller saughs, wi downy buds, Adorn the banks sae briery, O.

Roun the sylvan fairy nooks, Feath'ry breckans fringe the rocks, Neath the brae the burnie jouks, And ilka thing is cheerie, O.

Trees may bud, and birds may sing, Flowers may bloom, and verdure spring, Joy to me they canna bring,