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Sung by Jack Sinclair

This is a song, based on Newmills a little down the Irvine valley from Darvel in Ayrshire, Scotland. It was composed in the 1800s by a minister, the Rev George S. Lawrie, a friend to Robert Burns who had often been a guest at the manse in Newmills. The song takes a nostalgic view of childhood.


1. Dae ye mynd lang syne
Whan the summer days wur fine,
Whan the sun it shone far brichter
Than it's ever done sin syne?
Dae ye mynd the Haa Brig Turn
Faar we guddled in the burn,
An wur late for the schuil in the mornin?

2. Dae ye mynd the sunny braes
Faar we gaithered hips an slaes,
An fell among the brammles bushies,
Tearin aa oor claes?
An for fear we micht be seen,
We cam slippin hame at e'en,
An wur lickit fur oor peyns in the mornin.

3. Dae ye mynd the miller's dam
Whan the frosty winter cam?
Oh we sled across the curlers' rinks
An made thur game a sham;
Whan they chased us through the snaw,
We took leg bail een an aa, [leg bail - escape by running]
Bit we did it ow'r again in the mornin.

4. Where are they licht herts noo,
That were yince sae leal and true?
Some hae left the Ayrshire scene,
An some are strugglin through;
Fyle some hae risen high,
In life's changefu' destiny,
Ay! they rose wi the lark in the mornin.

5. Now youth's sweet spring is past,
An the autumn's come at last;
Our summer day has passed away,
An winter's comin fast;
But though lang the nicht may seem,
May we sleep withoot a dream,
Till we waakin on yon bricht Sabbath mornin.