CDs are all £10 plus p+p.
To purchase contact me by e-mail or buy online from musicscotland.com or amazon.
TRACKS
1. A Turquoise Frame of Mind
2. Talisker Bay
3. Special Sippin’ Whisky
4. Macallan
5. The Arran Dram
6. Old Minmore
7. Whisky for Breakfast
8. Black Art
9. The Wee Cooper o’ Fife
10. Monkey Shoulder
11. Snuffed Out
12. The Bruichladdich Dram
13. Paul Campbell
14. Loons is Loons
15. The Smallest Whisky Bar
Bonus track – Ein Letztes Glas
Whisky for Breakfast” is my fourth whisky CD. It has 15 new songs about whisky – all written by me. There is also a bonus track in German. The lyrics are not in the CD booklet so you can find them
Below you can find the lyrics of all the tracks on this CD
A Turquoise Frame of Mind
It’s been a long hard day
I’ve earned my pay
And now I’m trying to unwind
And now I know
What I must do
I’m in a turquoise frame of mind
The sky is black
Beyond the blue
But if you could look behind
I know that you
Just like me
Would find a turquoise frame of mind
It’s the colour of sunshine
Through a shallow sea
It’s the colour of love, baby
Protecting me
And when I go to Heaven, if I do
I know I’ll find
All the angels sitting around
In a turquoise frame of mind
All those Kings
And all those Queens
Back through the mists of time
With all their slaves
And precious things
They had a turquoise frame of mind
But I’ve got you
And I’ve got this
And I’m still heading down the line
The simple pleasure
Of a kiss
And a turquoise frame of mind
It’s the colour of sunshine…
Old Shylock’s girl
She sold his ring
And it nearly drove him blind
She got a monkey
But he just lost
His turquoise frame of mind
It’s the colour of sunshine…
Talisker Bay
I picked up stones on Talisker Bay
I threw them in the sea
I had to find a different way
Something right for me
I watched the boats go sailing by
I saw the waterfall
Dropping down the cliff so high
I heard the seabirds call
I felt the waves on Talisker Bay
Crashing over the stones
The ancient dance of foam and spray
And tall ships coming home
I threw my voice across the sky
It fell into the sea
I was Icarus flying high
Nobody watching me
And time stood still for me
There by the margin of the sea
I poured a dram on Talisker Bay
The night time coming on
I decided I would stay
And feel the kiss of dawn
A driftwood fire to keep me warm
The liquid fire inside
Suddenly the inner storm
Quietened down and died
And time stood still for me
Tasting the smoke and the stone
By the margin of the sea
Sweet salty memories of home
Beneath the stars on Talisker Bay
I sang a simple song
All the world seemed far away
The night was still and long
Something in that Talisker dram
Opened up my eyes
I came close to understanding
The things that I should prize
(That doesn’t make me wise)
And time stood still for me
Tasting the smoke and the stone
By the margin of the sea
Sweet salty memories of home
Bill Anderson + Jon Randall
Special Sipping Whisky
The sun is going down
And the barbeque is on
Friends are coming round
We’ll stay up till the dawn
It’s Friday evening
And the working week is done
It’s time to open the whisky
Now everybody’s here
And I’ve got some music on
There’s ice for the beer
And candles on the lawn
The moon is coming up
And the sun will soon be gone
It’s time to open the whisky
Not just any old whisky will do
It’s got to be something special for you
For you are my friend and I’ll give you your due
And pour you a special sippin’ whisky
So how about this one
It’s twenty nine years old
The colour is a blissful
Burgundy gold
Just give it time
For the magic to unfold
Another fine special sippin’ whisky
It doesn’t need soda
It doesn’t need ice
Don’t mix it with cola
That would not be nice
There’s fruit and flowers
And honey and spice
In this special sippin’ whisky
Not just any old whisky will do
It’s got to be something special for you
For you are my friend and I’ll give you your due
And pour you a special sipping whisky
If you appreciate whisky
You’ll appreciate friends
That’s how it hits me
It seems to make sense
Old friends, bookends
Single malts or blends
Special friends need special whisky
Keep all the cheap stuff for the rest of the pack
They might be happy with Johnnie or Jack
They’re gluggin’ it sluggin’ it, knocking it back
We’ll stick to special sippin’ whisky
Keep all the cheap stuff for the unwanted guests
Or rub it on your chest if you’ve got pests in your vest
For cooking or cocktails it might just pass the test
Or give it to the school tombola
Macallan
The mountain stands before you
There’s a valley in between
This spirit can restore you
It’s the finest I have seen
With my own eyes
With my own eyes
There’s a river running by
Oh, for ever, running by
Macallan hello
Macallan you and I
Away down below
There’s a river running by
Time is like a river
Life is like a dream
If I let the spirit take me
I can see up the stream
With my own eyes
With my own eyes
There’s a river running by
Oh, for ever, running by
Macallan I know
Macallan I try
Away down below
There’s a river running by
I have seen the barrels
That hold the spirit rolled
Beside the fields of barley
The shining fields of gold
With my own eyes
With my own eyes
There’s a river running by
Oh, for ever, running by
Macallan I glow
Macallan I cry
Away down below
There’s a river running by
Sunshine falls like honey
Stars are diamond rings
Sometimes I see rainbows
And even angels’ wings
With my own eyes
With my own eyes
There’s a river running by
Oh, for ever, running by
Macallan bravo
Macallan fly high
Away down below
There’s a river running by
Under the water, sunlight on sand
Just like the light that shines
Through the glass that sits in my hand
The Arran Dram
Watch the eagles fly
Over waterfalls
See the bright moon rise
Where the seabirds call
And the clear night skies
Are so deep and wide
It all makes you feel so small
When the long walk’s done
Leave the hill behind
Hear the river run
Through the fragrant pines
And when the smiling sun
And his friendly face have gone
Something inside still shines
In a troubled life
You need a sense of calm
And a just reward for doing all you can
So every busy woman
Every hard-pressed man
Can see their place in the master plan
Through the twinkling lights
And the starry nights
That you find in the Arran dram
When the whispering sea
Seems to call you home
The only place to be
Is on the shore all alone
Let your spirit sail free
Through the salt sea spray
Like a bird up above a standing stone
In a troubled life
You need a sense of calm
And a just reward for doing all you can
So every busy woman
Every hard-pressed man
Can see their place in the master plan
Through the shimmering lights
And the silken nights
That you find in the Arran dram
When the night’s long veil
Has been pulled aside
And the dawn so pale
Grows bright and wide
And the great Goat Fell
Like some high, Holy Grail
Burns like a beacon on the Clyde
In a troubled life
You need a sense of calm
And a just reward for doing all you can
So every busy woman
Every hard-pressed man
Can see their place in the master plan
Through the ice-bright lights
And the hot summer nights
That you find in the Arran dram
Oooh we will meet there far across the sea
Oooh we will walk where eagles fly free
Oooh we will talk over many drams
And we will hold gold in our hands
Old Minmore
From the Ladder Hills to Drumin
Down by Tamnavoulin
The Livet tumbles on towards the Spey
But the river owes its glory
And its place in many story
To the man who lies beside it at Tombae
Old Minmore, Old Minmore
Though few would believe it
He could dream and achieve it
Smith o’ Glenlivet, Old Minmore
In these quiet untamed hills
There were once a hundred stills
Hidden from the gaugers’ prying eyes
The peasants and the squires
Saw the smoke from whisky fires
Rise up unmolested to the skies
But the times were changing fast
And the old ways couldn’t last
Though few could see the way that things would fall
But one man seemed to know
The way the world would go
Smith could read the writing on the wall
Old Minmore, Old Minmore…
But he found it much more risky
To make his legal whisky
For the smugglers in the Glen were mad as hell
And they said he was a traitor
To creators o’ the cratur
And they’d burn his place with him inside as well
But Smith was not the kind
To be forced to change his mind
And he always played the hand that he was dealt
So to keep his dream alive
Or simply to survive
He wore a pair of pistols in his belt
Old Minmore, Old Minmore…
Between the Livet and the Avon
The eagle and the raven
Are the only ones who see what deeds are done
They say courage never fails
And dead men tell no tales
Smith carried on with what he had begun
Old Minmore, Old Minmore…
Whisky For Breakfast
I take whisky for my breakfast
To see me through the day
Just one little whisky
Helps me on my way
It clears my tubes, thins my blood
Clarifies my head
Just one little whisky
Then I go back to bed
I don’t need no scrambled eggs
I don’t need no bacon
A single malt is all I need
To stop my hands from shakin’
Some folks love their cornflakes
Others porridge oats
Shredded wheat or sugar puffs
Whatever floats your boat
If I have to eat grass for breakfast
This is the kind I choose
A little bit of barley
Converted into booze
I don’t need no scrambled eggs…
Claudio Bernasconi
Lives in St Moritz
He cleans his teeth with whisky
And he very seldom spits
He swills it round and gargles
Then swallows it with glee
And then comes down for breakfast
And he has the same as me
I don’t need no scrambled eggs…
I come from the land of Calvin
The Devil and John Knox
Where winter lasts for half a year
And we sleep in woolly socks
If I lived in southern lands
And woke up in the sun
I wouldn’t need breakfast whisky
Well, maybe just the one.
I don’t need no scrambled eggs…
When I come to Dufftown
I stay at Tannochbrae
Alan keeps some whisky
In an aerosol spray
He spreads a mist of whisky
Over my beans on toast
Then he squirts some on my tongue
And I like that the most
I don’t need no scrambled eggs…
I don’t need no scrambled eggs
I don’t need no bacon
A single malt is all I need
To stop my hands from shakin’
To stop my knees from quakin’
To stop my bones from achin’
To stop my skin from flakin’
To stop my heart from breakin’
I take whisky for my breakfast
To see me through the day
Black Art
With your strange black art
My defenses fall apart
You can feed upon my heart
I can’t resist it
Come the twilight time
I might lose my mind
It’s pierced through by signs
That change and twist it
And life is but a dream
And dreams are only dreams
Or so some Spanish poet said
But when you come along
My life becomes a song
A beautiful song inside my head
A beautiful song inside my head
There’s a deep black hole
Where the Devil’s in control
He tries to win my soul
And he is heartless
But though it burns my lip
If I only take a sip
I know I will not slip
Into the darkness
And life is but a dream…
A beautiful song inside my head
There’s a sleek black cat
In a tall black hat
And he turns me to a rat
So he can chase me
But I do not need to hide
There’s an angel by my side
She spreads her wings out wide
And he can’t face me
And life is but a dream…
A beautiful song inside my head
In the deep black night
With no starlight
Owls take to flight
In slow motion
But the Scorpio moon
Will rise above the dunes
And shine on Jim McEwan
Making potions
And life is but a dream…
A beautiful song in my head
A beautiful song in my head
A beautiful song in my head
The Wee Cooper o’ Fife
There was a wee cooper who lived in Fife
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
He worked at Cameronbridge a’ his life
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
He invented a centrifugal machine
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
To spin the barrels an’ sook them clean
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
The dregs o’ the whisky would hit the slide
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
Till not a drappie was left inside
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
This cooper was wed to a gentle wife
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
But soon he became the scourge of her life
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
For she never saw him sober at hame
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
His centrifugal machine was to blame
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
One night when the cooper had been on the skyte
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
She trussed him up in an old port pipe
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
An old port pipe missin’ three staves
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
Fitted her husband as snug as the grave
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
All that stuck out was his head and his feet
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
And these wi’ a stave she proceeded to beat
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
The cooper did roar the cooper did greet
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
But she rolled the poor devil along the street
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
Now he’s back at his work in the cooperin’ shop
Butts and barrels and hoggies too
But never mair will he touch a drop
Shavin’ a stave an’ a hoop for the cooper
An’ de-char re-char, mak it anew
Monkey Shoulder
I saw her standing there
Long black hair
Was it a snare
Or an answered prayer
And I wanted to hold her
Make my arms enfold her
Instead I just told her
Hey, you bring the ice
I’ve got the flame
You take the sweetness
I’ll take the blame
If it smoulders
You’ve got the sunny smile
I’ve got the Monkey Shoulder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
The Monkey Shoulder
We could be Bonnie and Clyde
Jekyll and Hyde
Let’s go for a ride
It’s stuffy inside
And I wanted to kiss her
I just could not resist her
Then she said in a whisper
Hey, I’ve got the light
You’ve got the shade
But do what you like
I’m not afraid
I got bolder
I’ve got the winning ways
You’ve got the Monkey Shoulder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
The Monkey Shoulder
There’s me and there’s you
One and one’s two
Here’s what we’ll do
I’ll make it up to you
And we’ll do a little shaking
Till my arms are aching
With all the mixing and making
The burn and the ice
The sweet and the tang
The dark and the nice
Just like Tristan
And Isolde
She had a winking eye
He got the Monkey Shoulder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
The Monkey Shoulder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
The Monkey Shoulder
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
The Monkey Shoulder
Snuffed Out
Woke up this morning there was something wrong
My head was strangely clear
If this is being sober, I’ll be glad when it’s over
Bring back my whisky and beer
All day long
It’s the best I’m gonna feel
What they did to me is wrong
This law should be repealed
I live in a town that’s grey and damp
For the best part of the year
I don’t understand why they had to ban
My whisky and my beer
All day long
It’s the best I’m gonna feel
What they did to me is wrong
This law should be repealed
Mr Churchill likes a fat cigar
Good whisky and good jokes
But he lost his seat to a pussyfoot Pete
Who says he never drinks or smokes
Woke up this morning there was something wrong
My head was strangely clear
If this is being sober, I’ll be glad when it’s over
Bring back my whisky and beer
All day long
It’s the best I’m gonna feel
What they did to me is wrong
This law should be repealed
The work of a fisherman out on the sea
Is lonely, cold and tough
When he gets ashore he likes nothing more
Than a little of the old, hard stuff
All day long
It’s the best I’m gonna feel
What they did to me is wrong
This law should be repealed
Me and my buddies came back from the war
Soaked in blood and sweat
What could be wrong with a pint and a song
But this is all the thanks we get
Woke up this morning there was something wrong
My head was strangely clear
If this is being sober, I’ll be glad when it’s over
Bring back my whisky and beer
All day long
It’s the best I’m gonna feel
What they did to me is wrong
This law should be repealed
The Bruichladdich Dram
When you wake up in the morning and you’re just feeling crap
Wi’ fits or faints or fevers – don’t get into a flap
For tinnitus or shingles or a lack of inner calm
The cure is in a bottle of the Bruichladdich dram
The Bruichladdich dram, the Bruichladdich dram
The cure is in a bottle of the Bruichladdich dram
If life isn’t quite turning out the way you’d planned
The people that you work with are like the Klu Klux Klan
The kids are bad, the wife is mad and nags ad nauseam
The chances are you need a little Bruichladdich dram
The Bruichladdich dram, the Bruichladdich dram
The chances are you need a little Bruichladdich dram
When you’re shuffling on your zimmer and thinking of the past
And the little time that’s left seems to disappear so fast
Don’t just sit there waiting for the Royal telegram
Just wrap your stiff old fingers round a Bruichladdich dram
The Bruichladdich dram, the Bruichladdich dram
Just wrap your stiff old fingers round a Bruichladdich dram
When you want to celebrate – no matter what the cause
You’ve done something great and deserved the applause
Your numbers have come up or you’ve passed a big exam
Don’t pop the old champagne – pop the Bruichladdich dram
The Bruichladdich dram, the Bruichladdich dram
Don’t pop the old champagne – pop the Bruichladdich dram
Now Jim has made a whisky he calls it his Black Art
It’s mystical, it’s magical – bewitches the heart
Soon every lass on Islay will have to buy a pram
But don’t blame Islay cheese – blame the Bruichladdich dram
The Bruichladdich dram, the Bruichladdich dram
But don’t blame Islay cheese – blame the Bruichladdich dram
When you’re far away from Islay and wishing you were there
There’s little point in fretting and pulling out your hair
A book of Whisky Legends and a CD by the Man
Kick off your shoes and pour yourself a Bruichladdich dram
The Bruichladdich dram, the Bruichladdich dram
Kick off your shoes and pour yourself a Bruichladdich dram
Paul Campbell
My name is Paul Campbell, I come from Balmichael
In the hills above Arran’s western shore
My poor heart is grieving for Arran I am leaving
Just like my brother before
Away to the west I am flying in haste
And I fear I may not see Arran, evermore
The Government’s agents, those parasitic gaugers
Have pestered this island for a year
They’re ruthless and they’re wicked and they killed Isa Nicholl
And left her poor children in tears
They come in the night and they break things for spite
And they think that the people will crumble, out of fear
They came to Balmichael when the still was at a trickle
And destroyed everything they could find
I couldn’t hold my temper and though I don’t remember
They say I made one of them blind
But a man has to fight when he thinks he is right
And if he loses all in the struggle, never mind
For striking my betters they put my hands in fetters
And sent me to Glasgow for trial
The skipper was McArthur and close to Dumbarton
He spoke to me in Gaelic and he smiled
So I jumped overboard where the white breakers roared
For a Campbell will never be friendless, in Argyll
In all kinds of weather I’ve been hiding in the heather
Just like a shadow unseen
But I know they will hunt me and I have to leave the country
It seems like the worst kind of dream
So I’m travelling on to where my brother has gone
And we’ll see if the good folk take whisky in New Orleans
My name is Paul Campbell and I come from Balmichael…
Loons is loons
“Loons is loons the warld ‘roond
But Rothes loons is buggers”
The whisky pipe got drilled one night
And the hale toon gathered roond
The pipe got drilled, and the pots got filled,
And they a’ got fu’ thegither
Now Major Grant was a decent soul
And the toonfolk loved him well
So why they did this terrible thing
Not one of them could tell
But whisky flowing through a pipe
Suspended in mid-air
Was just a touch temptation
More than some of them could bear
Loons is loons…
Some men dream of a bottle of drams
Some men dream of a still
But what could please a body more
Than an auger and a drill
You’d never need to do any work
And neither buy nor sell
But just enjoy the trickle and flow
Of your very own “secret well”
Loons is loons…
But the Rothes loons upset the Lord
Wi’ their wicked, sinful deeds
An’ retribution came to them a’
In the form of achin’ heids
So they made a contract wi’ the Lord
To leave the pipe on Sunday
For a double score the night before
Would see them through till Monday
“Loons is loons the warld ‘roond
But Rothes loons is buggers”
The whisky pipe got drilled one night
And the hale toon gathered roond
The pipe got drilled, and the pots got filled,
And they a’ got fu’ – roarin’ fu –
The air was blue – what a hullabaloo –
Big galoots – pissed as newts
Suckin’ it oot o’ clarty cloots –
And they a’ got fu’ thegither!
The Smallest Whisky Bar
I will follow my star
To the smallest whisky bar on earth
And we will see
What we might see over there
In Santa Maria
In Val Mustair
Would you like to come too
I know that you will find
Just like me
Everything’s gonna feel alright
In Santa Maria
Where it’s warm at night
I can’t resist the call
Over mountains and miles
I could be there by nightfall
In Santa Maria
We can go in my car
And though it’s far to drive
At journey’s end
We’ll find new friends I know
Santa Maria
Is the place to go
There are no clichés
It’s the funkiest place I know
It may be small
But within these walls you’ll find
In Santa Maria
Some peace of mind
I can’t resist the call
Over mountains and miles
I could be there by nightfall
In Santa Maria
In that tiny bar
Gunter and Macbutton serve
And Detlef too
With passion true and rare
In Santa Maria
Good spirits there
I can’t resist the call
Over mountains and miles
I could be there by nightfall
In Santa Maria
All Robin Laing Albums
Whisky For Breakfast
Embark to Whisky for Breakfast. Experience the magic of Scottish folk songs by acclaimed musician, singer, and songwriter, Robin Laing. Dive into the rich tapestry of storytelling through music.