The Canadian MacQuarries*
From "The Edinburgh Collection of Highland Bagpipe Music", published by David Glen, Edinburgh (c. 1900), this march is Part XI p.32 of said publication and can be found in the Music Annex of the Edinburgh City Library. I will post this music, too, once I transcribe it, and even make a MIDI file!

Welcome To Ulva*
For the MacQuarrie Clan Gathering on the Isle of Mull in 1985, Jean Spence of Dundee wrote this song for the Clan and gave use of it to the clan. GET THE MIDI FILE!

   Welcome to Ulva

    1.   No matter how far you have wandered away,
                to what distant shore you belong,
            Until you are able to come back some day
                Remember the words of this song:

Chorus Welcome home, welcome home,
                    Although it is just for awhile; 
                    And when you depart, may you keep in your heart
                    The warmest of welcomes from Ulva's green isle.

    2. It's many a year since you left Scotland's shore
                And sailed o'er the silvery main.
            Until you are able to come back once more
                Remember this lilting refrain:   Chorus

    3. You've gathered together a moment, and then
                You'll go, though the way may be long;
            Until you are able to come back again
                Remember the words of this song:   Chorus

Lord Ullin's Daughter

A Chieftain, to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound,
To row us o'er the ferry."

"Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?"
"Oh, I am the chief of Ulva's isle.
And this Lord Ullin's daughter.

"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen
My blood would stain the heather.

"His horseman hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who would cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?"

Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
"I'll go, my chief -- I'm ready;
It is not your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady:

"And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.

But still as wilder blew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer

"Oh haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather,
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her.
When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.

And still they rowed amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore--
His wrath was changed to wailing.


For sore dismayed, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover:
One lovely arm she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried in grief,
"Across this stormy water:
And I'll forgive your Highland Chief
My daughter -- Oh, my daughter!"

'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore
Return or aid preventing:
The waters wild went o'er his child--
And he was left lamenting.

Salute to the MacQuarries
MacQuarrie of Ulva - a grand Scottish name
A name that forever will last
Now let's draw aside the veil of the years
And take a long look at the past.

For 900 years they were the chiefs
Of the smallest of clans- but the proudest
The bravest in battle, the biggest in heart
And when they'd a wee dram- aye the loudest.

They were real friendly with the Lords of the Isles
MacDonalds and MacQuarries were buddies
They raided the mainland and harried their foes,
And rustled their cows with their cuddies.

They fought with MacDonald and turned to MacLean
They argues and tempers would flare
But when Scotland was threatened with Sassenach foes
The MacQuarries where the first to be there.

They fought against Cromwell - sensible folk.
And in Bloody and horrible strife,
The chief of the MacQuarrie and each of his men
For King and for Scotland, gave up his life.

Over the years those who were left
Played various parts in our story
Some were one side - some the other, but
Always they fought for Clan glory.

Lachlan MacQuarrie, the 1st of the Chiefs,
Found his bank account well in the red.
So deeply in debt and pockets to let
"I'll have to sell Ulva," he said.

So the island was then in some stranger's hands
A heart-rending sight to see
Lachlan grew pensive, was cut off in his prime
And died at 103.

Lachlan Macquarie, most famous of all
Governor of New South Wales did become
Got stuck into Sydney, cleaned up the place
And banished the odour of rum.

Just as well he stayed in Australia I think
It would have been a bit risky
To come back to Ulva and attempt the impossible
Banish the odour of whiskey.

It wasn't all fighting and quarrels and wars
There was love and romance to be found
But Lord Ullin's daughter and Ulva's young Chief
While crossing the loch, sadly drowned.

Then came the clearances, long bitter years
When sheep, more than men, were worth,
MacQuarries and others were put off the land
And wandered the faces of the earth.

At universities the MacQuarrie did well
They were bright, this I do not deny
Perhaps this accounts for reports I have heard
That their foreheads were remarkable high.

MacQuarrie today is still a great name
An M.P. and professor I hear
There's Tam and there's Jock - "Who are they?" you might ask,
Well, they just hand around at the pier.

Now we've dealt with events of the past
Let's remember where it all began
It started right here - On this tiny isle,
Ulva - still the heart of the Clan.

We know with Australia it cannot compare
Being that wee bit smaller, you'll find
The sun's not so hot, and it's seen not a lot.
And the rain drives you out of your mind.

Now our American and Canadian friends
Like the bright city lights, so I hear.
There are no lights on Ulva - no, wait I am wrong
There's one shining down on the pier.

Now gathering on Ulva in August 85
Are MacQuarries from far distant parts
And we hope when you leave the memories of this week
Will forever remain free in your hearts.

To finish this verse, may I lapse into Scots
So afore ye a' gang awa'
Here's tae MacQuarries, a' o'ver the world
Frae Ulva - a sincere 'Slainte Va'!