Violet Jacob’s poem Hallowe’en
The tattie-liftin’s nearly through, They’re ploughin’ whaur the barley grew, And aifter dark, roond ilka stack, Ye’ll see the horsemen stand an’ crack O Lachlan, but I mind o’ you!
I mind foo often we hae seen Ten thoosand stars keek doon atween The nakit branches, an’ below Baith fairm an’ bothie hae their show, Alowe wi’ lichts o’ Hallowe’en.
There’s bairns wi’ guizards at their tail Cloorin’ the doors wi’ runts o’ kail, And fine ye’ll hear the screichs an’ skirls O’ lassies wi’ their droukit curls Bobbin’ for aipples i’ the pail.
The bothie fire is loupin’ het, A new heid horseman’s kist is set Richt’s o’ the lum; whaur by the blaze The auld ane stude that kept yer claes— I canna thole to see it yet!
But gin the auld fowks’ tales are richt An ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht, O freend o’ friends! what wad I gie To feel ye rax yer hand tae me Atween the dark an’ caun’le licht?
Awa’ in France, across the wave, The wee lichts burn on ilka grave, An’ you an’ me their lowe hae seen— Ye’ll mebbe hae yer Hallowe’en Yont, whaur ye’re lyin’ wi’ the lave.
There’s drink an’ daffin’, sang an’ dance And ploys and kisses get their chance, But Lachlan, man, the place I see Is whaur the auld kist used tae be And the lichts o’ Hallowe’en in France!
I had heard Jean Redpath several times on A Prairie Home Companion and other folk music radio shows in the 80s and 90s, but it wasn't until hearing her 1990 CD, Leaving the Land, that I fell in love with her work.
This particular poem was written by Violet Jacob after her son was killed at the Battle of the Somme in World War I. Jim Reid set it to music, but Jean's rendition is, I think perhaps, the first recorded version of this poem as a song. It's been covered many time since.
It's such a moving song of mourning a lost friend combined with the imagery of harvest celebrations that take place so close to Remembrance Day and All Hallow's Eve. ("Hallowe'en" coming originally from the Scots language term for the holiday.) To me, it is perhaps the most evocative autumn song there is.
"Oh friend of friends, what would I give to feel you reach out your hand to me, between the dark and candle light."
