The new repertoire was very well received at the new Sula's first concert in Albertslund near Copenhagen. The blend is still the same: Scots songs, Scandinavian tunes, English translations of Danish songs. Now Scots and Irish tunes meet Kirstine's and Mette's own compositions, meet Rod's new writing, meet more traditional Danish tunes... And these young women play so well that all the old guy has to do is try and remember the words...
Well, not quite all. There's still the guitar and the banjo, alternating backing to the whirling fiddle and button accordion.

If the Albertslund audience reaction is anything to go by, folk will love this new version of Sula.
There is new air under Sula's wings...

There are plans for Sula trips to the Faro Islands, to Scotland, to the Middle East and to USA. Booking has begun for concerts in Denmark, Scandinavia, Germany and the Netherlands. Contact Rod Sinclair:

and hear what all the fuss is about!

SULA song sung at Berlin memorial concert

On 28th November, a memorial concert was held in Berlin for Nordahl Grieg, the Norwegian author, poet and journalist, who died on December 3rd 1943, when the RAF Lancaster bomber he was flying in was shot down over Potsdam. A memorial stone was laid at the spot in December 2003.

This year, the well-known Norwegian singer Torhild Ostad sang Grieg's famous song KRINGSATT AV FIENDER at the memorial concert, while Scots singer Mick West sang Rod Sinclair's translation FACE THE FOE. You can hear FACE THE FOE on Sula's OVERSEAS cd. And on Mick West's new Greentrax cd Sark o Snaw. Here are the words:

Nordahl Grieg, mel: Otto Mortensen
translation: Rod Sinclair

Faced by your enemies on every hand
Battle is menacing, now make your stand
Fearful your question, defenceless, open
What shall I fight with? Where is my weapon?

Here is your battle plan, here is your shield
Faith in this life of ours, the common weal
For all our children’s sake, save it, defend it
Pay any price you must, they shall not end it

Neat stacks of cannon shells, row upon row
Death to the life you love, all that you know
War is contempt for life, peace is creation
Death’s march is halted by determination

We all deserve the world, harvest and seed
Hunger and poverty are born of greed
Don’t turn your face away from needs of others
Reach out a helping hand to all your brothers

Here is our solemn vow, from land to land
We will protect our world from tyrants’ hand
Defend the beautiful, gentle and innocent
Like any mother would care for her infant.


Release date: 28 August 2004
Available at

"Må SULA flyve højt!" ("High may SULA the gannet fly!") - Ebbe Kløvedal Reich

List of titles...............................................Sangtitlerne
1. To Live is to Fly & Gånglåt från Äppelbo
2. Woodlands
3. Madame laver tynd café & Slängpolska efter Byss-Calle
4. Any Mick'll Do & Dronning Dagmar
5. Lay Down your Weary Tune & Hil dig frelser
6. Skipper Clements
7. Bogie's Bonny Belle & Valvotun Yön Valssi
8. McGinty's Meal and Ale & Smedens anden schottish
9. Face the Foe
10. APs Ottemandsdans & Pointe au pic
11. Last Trip Home & Det lysner over agres felt


1. To Live is to Fly

Days up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
Turn none away
Everthing is not enough
Nothing is too much to bear
Where you’ve been's forever gone
All you keep is getting there
CHORUS: To live is to fly
Both low and high
So shake the dust off of your wings
And the sleep out of your eyes
We all got holes to fill
The holes are all that’s real
Some fall on you like a storm
Sometimes you dig you own
The choice is yours to make
Time is yours to take
Some sail upon the sea
Some toil upon the stone


Goodbye to all my friends
It’s time to go again
Think of all the poetry
And the singing down the line
I’ll miss the system here
The bottom’s low and treble’s clear
But it never pays to think too much
About the things you leave behind

2. Woodlands
When clouds over woodlands are done weeping
And the wind done with tearing at our trees
Broken branches their bitter tears are dripping
Can a storm’s fury bring us to our knees?
As the seasons go by
Limbs will long for the sky
Must they fall, that dared to grow so high?

Leaves were battered, but buds bloomed fresh and tender
And the wind strengthened tree in trunk and bough
Forest voids and the twisted wrecks of timber
Let the light of the sun coax greening now
For the ancients now gone
New recruits willing come
Closing ranks in the forest's mighty throng

For they thought that a heart’s will could be broken
And they thought that our rights could be denied
Tell them now that the last word is not spoken
Tell them now that our arms are not yet tried
For as year follows year
Bonds are forged against fear
Powers found for the power that was here

They can build barricades and bar our passage
They can bind us with cordon, rope and pole
But they can’t silence tongues that share a language
And they can’t tame our will with tax and toll
For the heroes who fall
New will rise, strong and tall,
Join the fight that means freedom for us all

So when clouds over woodland are done weeping
And the wind done with tearing at our trees
Giant oaks may lie humbled by their reaping
But the storm never brought us to our knees
We stand proud for we know
Storms may come and may go
But our forest will ever stronger grow. Oversættelse: Rod Sinclair (c)2001

4. Any Mick'll Do
Gerry Conlan stood before the jury
Before the judge in his gown and his wig
And the whole damn country knew that he was guilty
Even though the evidence was rigged
And when it all came out, it was the old familiar shout
He’ll be guilty of something, sure as hell
What’s a Paddy more or less? and anyway he confessed
Stick him down in his cell - and his father as well

Any Mick’ll do, any black, any Jew
any poor wee soul who’s not like you
’cause they’re down from the trees, they’re up from the bogs
and they come round here and they steal your job
and they’re all the bloody same - just no the same as you
and when a scapegoat’s what you need - any Mick’ll do

They told Annie McGuire she was a bomber
she heard every expert witness testify
that they’d found traces of gelignite upon her hands
and British justice would not be denied
And when they found they were wrong, it was the same old song
she’s a danger to us all if she’s free!
with every day that goes by we’re more committed to the lie
so just leave her be, and throw away the key


I hate every Jew who kicks a Palestinian,
and every Nazi who ever kicked a Jew
I hate every stupid bigoted opinion
and if you don’t hate them too, then I hate you
But what I hate most of all is the sheer damned gall
of a system that never thinks twice
about furthering a grudge with a jury and a judge
and when they’re loading the dice, tell me, who pays the price?

words and music: Brian McNeill
5. Lay Down your Weary Tune & Hil dig frelser
6. Skipper Clements
7. Bogie's Bonny Belle & Valvotun Yön Valssi
8. McGinty's Meal and Ale & Smedens anden schottish
9. Face the Foe
10. APs Ottemandsdans & Pointe au pic
11. Last Trip Home & Det lysner over agres felt

Eskil Romme, Hedegaardvej 10, Halkær, 9240 Nibe, Danmark.
Tel: 0045 98 66 64 76
Credits Tak til
This album was recorded in June – December 2003 at The West Jutland Music
Academy, Esbjerg, by Ole Ellingsgaard and mixed in early 2004 by Ole E and Sula.
Cover design by Ole Wich –
Photo (Sula + Andy Irvine) by Ole Ellingsgaard
All the music is arranged by Sula.
Thanks to Kristian Blak, Tutl, our Faroese record company, for his tireless work. The first SULA cd

1. Fisher Lassies, Lanna Villes Schottish
2. Baglæns Kontrasejre, My Love She’s but a Lassie yet, Rumlekvadrillen
3. The Road and the Miles to Dundee, Lassie wi the Golden Hair
4. The John McLean March, Brännvin är mit enda gull
5. Kringsatt av fiender
6. The Piper o Dundee, Tre Repriser
7. Kalkmandens Vals, Mist-covered Mountains, Spakens Vals
8. Monymusk, Råby Hopsa
9. 300 Miles from Hazard, Norsk brudemarch
10. Over the Waterfall, The Kitchen Girl, Polsk Dans
11. Det haver så nyligen regnet
12. The Poachers, Konvulsions Låt

The words of all the songs are to be found below.

This album was recorded on January 6-12 2000 at Vestjysk Musikkonservatorium, Esbjerg by Ole Ellingsgaard
Mixed on 16 February by Dick Gaughan
Text and notes Rod Sinclair
Cover design and artwork by Ole Wich - Wichgrafik
Photos by Ole Jensen, Genia Ainsworth, Poul A. Nielsen and Ole Wich
Released june 2000 on the label TUTL, Raynagøta 12, FR100 Tórshavn, Faroe Islands

The CD SULA - Fastland shd 45 is availably in your Danish recordshop
GO' Danish Folk Music


The words of the songs on FASTLAND

FISHER LASSIES words Ewan McColl / tune trad.

Come a’ ye fisher lassies, aye, and come awa’ wi’ me
Frae Cairnbulg and Gimrie and frae Inverallachie
Frae Buckie and frae Aberdeen and a’ the country roond
We’re awa’ tae gut the herring, we’re awa’ tae Yarmouth toon

Ye rise up in the morning wi’ your bundle in your hand
Be at the station early or ye’ll surely have to stand
Tak plenty tae eat and a kettle for your tea
Or you’ll maybe die o’ hunger on the road tae Yarmouth quay.

Well, the journey it’s a long yin and it taks a day or twa
And when you’ve found your lodgings sure it’s sound asleep ye’ll fa’
But you’ll rise at five wi the sleep still in your e’e
You’re awa tae find the gutting yairds along the Yarmouth quay

It’s early in the morning and it’s late into the nicht
Your hands are cut and chappit and they look an awfu sicht
And you’ll greet like a wean when you put them in the bree
And you’ll wish you were a thousand miles awa fra Yarmouth quay.

For there’s coopers there and curers there and buyers, canny cheils,
There’s lassies at the herrings and there’s lassies at the creels
And you’ll wish the fish had been all left in the sea
By the time you’ve finished gutting herring on the Yarmouth quay.

I’ve gutted fish in Lerwick, in Stornoway and Sheilds,
All along the Humber midst the barrels and the creels
Whitby, Grimsby, a’ the country roond,
But the place tae see the herring is the quay at Yarmouth toon.

Cauld winter was howling o'er muir and o'er mountains
And wild was the surge on the dark rolling sea
When I met about daybreak a bonnie young lassie
Wha asked me the road and the miles to Dundee

Said I, "My young lassie, I canna weel tell ye,
The road and the distance I canna weel gie
But if you'll permit me to gang a wee bittie
I'll show ye the road and the miles to Dundee."

At once she consented and gave me her arm
Ne'er a word did I speir wha the lassie micht be
She appeared like an angel in face and in form
As she walked by my side on the road to Dundee.

At length wi the Howe o Strathmartin behind us
And the spires of the toon in full view we could see
She said, "Gentle sir, I can never forget ye
For showing me the road and the miles to Dundee

"This ring and this purse take to prove I am grateful
And some simple token I trust ye'll gie me
And in times to come I'll the laddie remember
That showed me the road and the miles to Dundee."

I took the gowd pin frae the scarf on my bosom
And said, "Keep ye this in remembrance o me."
Then bravely I kissed the sweet lips o the lassie
Ere I parted wi her on the road to Dundee.

So here's to the lassie - I ne'er can forget her -
And ilka young laddie that's listening to me
And never be sweer to convoy a young lassie
Though it's only to show her the road to Dundee.

THE JOHN MacLEAN MARCH Hamish Henderson
Aye Mac, did ye see him as he cam doon by Gorgie
Awa ower the Lammermuirs and north o the Tay
For yon man is comin and the hale toon is turnin oot
We’re a sure he’ll win back to Glesca the day
A’ the jiners and hudders-on are marchin frae Clydebank
Come on doon an hear him, ye’re ower thrang tae bide
Turn oot Jock and Jimmy leave yer cranes and yer muckle gantries
Great John MacLean’s coming hame tae the Clyde.

Argyle Street and London Road’s the route that we’re marching
The lads frae the Broomielaw, they’re here tae a man
Hey Neil! whaur’s yer hoodrums, ye great heiland teuchter?
Get yer pipes, man, and march at the heid o the clan.
Hello Mick Malone, well I knew that ye’d be here
So the red and the green my lads we’ll wear side by side.
The Gorbals is his the day and Glesca belongs tae him
Now great John MacLean’s coming hame tae the Clyde

And it’s forward tae Glesca Green we’ll march in guid order
Will grips the banner, weel that boy isna blate
Ah look, man, there’s Johnny noo, that’s him, the bonnie hielan fechter.
Lenin’s his frere, man, and Liebnich’s his mate.
Tak tent when he’s speakin for they’ll mind what he said here
In Glesca oor city and the hale world beside
Ah, look man, the scarlet’s bonnie! Here’s tae ye, heilan Johnny!
Great John MacLean has come hame tae the Clyde

Ah weel, when it’s finished I’ll awa hame tae Springburn,
Come hame tae yer tea, John, we’ll soon hae ye fed.
It’s hard work, the speakin and I’m sure ye’ll be tired the nicht,
I’ll sleep on the flair and I’ll gie John the bed
The hale city’s quiet noo, it kens that he’s restin
At hame wi his Glesca freends, their fame and their pride
The red will be worn, my lads and Scotland will march again
Noo great John MacLean has come hame tae the Clyde

KRINGSATT AV FIENDER words: Nordahl Greig / tune: Otto Mortensen
Kringsatt av fjender, gå ind i din tid!
under en blodig storm ­ vi dig til strid!
Kanske du spør i angst, udekket, åpen:
Hvad skal jeg kjempe med,
hvad er mit våpen?

Her er dit vern mod vold
her er dit sverd:
Troen på livet vårt,
menneskets verd.
For all vår fremtids skyld
søk det og dyrk det
dø om du må - men
øk det og styrk det!

Stilt går granatenes
glidende bånd
Stans deres drift mod død
stans dem med ånd!
Krig er forakt for liv
Fred er å skape
Kast dine krefter inn:
døden skal tape!

Edelt er mennesket,
jorden er rik!
Finnes her nød og sult
skyldes det svik.
Knus det! I livets navn
skal uret falle
Solskinn og brød og ånd
eies av alle

Dette er løftet vårt
fra bror til bror:
vi vil bli gode mot
menskenes jord.
Vi vil ta vare på
skjønnheten, varmen -
som om vi bar et barn
varsomt på armen!

A piper cam tae oor toon, tae oor toon, tae oor toon
A piper cam tae oor toon and he played bonnily.
He played a spring the laird tae please,
A spring brent new frae yont the seas,
And then he gied his bags a wheeze and played another key.

CHORUS: And wisna he a roguey, a roguey, a roguey,
And wisna he a roguey, the piper o Dundee.

He played The Welcome ower the Main, Ye's be Fu' and I be Fain,
Auld Stewart's back Again, wi muckle mirth and glee.
He played The Kirk, he played The Queer,
Mullin Dhu and Chevalier,
Lang Awa But Welcome Here, sae sweet sae bonnily.


There was some gat swords and some gat nane
And some were dancing mad their lain
And mony's the vow o weir was ta'en that nicht in Amulree.
There was Tullibardine and Burleigh,
Stewart, Keith and Ogilvie
And brave Carnegie, wha but he, the piper o Dundee.


MONYMUSK Trad. Scots
As I cam in by Monymusk and in by Alford’s Dale
A sad misfortune happened to me and I think nae shame tae tell

CHORUS Fal te too ra riddle day fal te too ra lie day

As I cam in by Monymusk the moon was shining clear
And I held on tae Lethandy to see my Maggie dear

I did gaun when I did think that a’ were sleeping soond
But a plague upon yon auld wife for she cam tripping doon

Sae cannily she slipped the lock and set the door agee
And she crawled in on her hands and knees to see what she could see

And when she saw I widna slip she’s run to the guidman
Says, There’s a lad intae the hoose and that I winna stand

Sure providence has acted wrang sich pleasures for to gie
Tae ony servant lass or lad just working for a fee

Then tae the bells wi a her micht say loud she made them ring
Till faith I thocht aboot my lugs the bigging she would bring

Then the guidman cam doon himsel and he stuck ben his heid
Guid faith, I thocht it was a ghost just risen frae the died

((He’d duddy drawers upon his shanks, a sleeping cap o white
He’d face as lang’s my leg and in his haund a licht))

He’s taen me by the shooders broad and thrown me oot a doors
Says I My auld lad, I’ll be back when sleeping gars ye snore

It's three hundred miles from Hazard to the Cincinatti line
I've hitched a ride but I'm sick inside, I cannot keep from crying
I wrote you I'd be home next week, but they laid me off at noon
I'll be home this time tomorrow night, I know you won't be home.
(repeat last line)

I worked the mines, I was doing fine, till they shut the shafts down tight
I turned factory hand, just a hard-working man trying to do the right
But the last man hired is the first man fired and they cut me to the bone
I'll be home this time tomorrow night, I know you won't be home

My best friends say when I was away you were stepping out on me
You were running around in every town from Hazard to Tennessee
You were raising hell in every motel from home to Lexington
I'll be home this time tomorrow night, I know you won't be home

Did you ever see a chicken hawk sail on the morning wind?
It'll circle the barn till the farmer's gone then dive on the chicken pen
It'll grab a hen and away again, and you won't know where it's gone
I'll be home this time tomorrow night, I know you won't be home.

DET HAVER SÅ NYLIGEN REGNET words: J.Ottosen, tune: trad.Danish
Det haver så nyligen regnet,
det har stormet og pisket i vor lund.
Frø af ugræs er føget over hegnet,
åg på nakke og lås for vor mund.
Årets løb har sin lov,
der blev lyst i vor skov,
ak, hvor kort, indtil alt er stormens rov!

Det har regnet, men regnen gav grøde,
det har stormet, men stormen gjorde stærk.
Som de troede, at skoven alt var øde,
så de vårkraftens spirende værk.
For de gamle, som faldt
er der ny overalt,
de vil møde, hver gang der bliver kaldt.

Og de tro’de, at hjertebånd kan briste,
og de tro’de, at glemmes kan vor ret;
de skal vide, de aldrig ser de sidste,
de skal vide, at ingen bliver træt.
Thi, som årene randt,
sås det: båndene bandt,
kræfter fødtes for kræfterne, som svandt.

De kan spærre med farver og med pæle,
de kan lokke med løfter og med løn,
fælles sprog giver vore tanker mæle,
fælles vilje gør kampdagen skøn.
Nye stridsmænd skal der,
nye stridsmænd skal her
slutte kreds om den fane vi har kær.

Ja, det haver så nyligen regnet,
og de træer, de dryppe endnu;
mangen eg er for uvejret segnet,
men endda er vi frejdige i hu;
viger ej ud af spor,
for vi kender det ord:
Det har slet ingen hast for dem, som tror.

Come all ye gallant sporting lads that ramble void of care
As ye rove out on a moonlit night with your dog, your gun, your snare
The harmless hare and pheasant you have at your command
Not thinking on your last career all on Van Dieman's Land

There was young Jack Brown from Glasgow town, Tom Williams and poor Joe
We were three gallant sporting boys the country well did know
One night we were trepanned by the keepers in the sand
And for fourteen years transported to Van Dieman's Land

The day on which we landed upon that fateful shore
The planters stood around us, full twenty score and more
They ranked us up like horses and sold us out of hand
They yoked us to the plough, me boys, to plough Van Dieman's land

The houses that we dwell in here are made of clod and clay
With rotten straw for bedding, we dare not say them nay
Our cots are fenced with wire and we slumber when we can
And we fight the wolves and tigers that infest Van Dieman's Land

There came a lass from sweet Dundee, Jean Stewart was her name
For fourteen years transported for the playing of the game
Our captain bought her freedom and married her off hand
And she gives us all good usage upon Van Dieman's Land

Although the poor of Scotland do labour and do toil
They're robbed of all the blessings, the produce of the soil
Your proud imperious landlord, if you break his command
He'll send you to the British hulks, or to Van Dieman's Land.