Songs my Father Sang

Posted byKathy SimmonsPosted inFamily, Fathers, Life, Music, Nostalgia, RelationshipsTags:, , , , , , , , , ,

One of my most treasured memories of my father was when he would sing to us.

His serenades were not a constant, but occurred spontaneously, generally while he was driving. The destinations of those day trips I cannot recall. What I do remember is the feelings his singing evoked; safety, comfort, simple happiness, like stepping out your front door after a particularly harsh winter to the first embrace of springtime.

And when my father sang, the world could do no wrong.

His repertoire was vast and varied and his choice of song could fluctuate depending on his mood in that particular moment of time. Though not a professional singer, he could hold a tune quite nicely. His voice, deep and strong, betrayed just a hint of a Scottish accent, and always sounded just a wee bit higher in pitch when he sang of his beloved homeland.

Although his mother was Irish born and his love of Ireland fierce, my father’s favorite tune undoubtedly, was “Loch Lomond,” a traditional Scottish folk song.

“By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.”

And my father, a poet at heart, would never fail to share the meaning of those melancholy lyrics involving two Scottish prisoners of war, one to be released and the other to be hung. The high road represented the normal road of life and the low road represented the road that the soldier sentenced to death would take, his soul returning to his homeland in the highlands.

On some days my father quoted strange, yet interestingly captive poems I recall to this day:

‘Who killed Cock Robin? I said the sparrow, with my bow and arrow. I killed Cock Robin.’ That one never quite sat well with me as a child or for that matter an adult, as I could never bear the thought of the robin being speared.

When in a whimsical mood, my father might sing this nonsensical children’s song of which I still know not the meaning, yet it never failed to lighten the mood if someone was having a bad day:

“Oh! Mairzy doats and dozy doats
And liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?

And how can I forget the many romantic songs my father sang? I recall one tune performed by Perry Como which my father sang often…”I wonder whose kissing her now?” Though as a child, I often pondered from the back seat of our station wagon, why my father would be kissing another woman…

And then there was the Louie Armstrong number he loved, “Oh when we’re dancing and you’re dangerously near, I get ideas. I get ideas…”

Or, the slightly more madcap and risque: “Cigarettes! and Whiskey! and wild, wild women. They’ll drive you crazy they’ll drive you insane!” The tune so catchy, my toddler sister would sometimes sing along, much to my mother’s dismay.

Another selection my father sang throughout his life, was from the classic movie, “My Fair Lady.” An uplifting song I too found so lovely, that I chose it for the dance with my father on my wedding day:

“On the Street Where You Live”

“I have often walked down this street before
But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before
All at once am I, several stories high
Knowing I’m on the street where you live”

When his four daughters prepared to leave home for college, my father had a ritual, this one too in song. He never failed to serenade us with this Scottish favorite, delivered in his native tongue. Entitled:

“We’re no awa’tae bide awa”

Whose translation, goes something like this: “Oh, we are not away to stay away, We are not away to leave you. We are not away to stay away. We will always come back and see you.” And as our family gathered around the dining room table the night before the departure, my father would raise a glass and in that high pitched tone, sing these words earnestly in tribute. My mother, understandably sad a daughter was leaving home, did not share his enthusiasm and often left the table in tears but not before casting a few choice words at my father. But he never wavered, delivering the lyrics without a hint of sadness or woe, as was his nature.

And I will forever love that Scottish sentiment of leaving – but always coming home.

He often sang “My Darling Clementine” whose tragedy always tugged at my heartstrings…”

“Light she was, and like a fairy, 
And her shoes were number nine; 
Herring boxes without topses, 
Sandals were for Clementine.”

And Stephen Foster’s gorgeous yet forlorn, “Beautiful Dreamer..”

“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee,
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lulld by the moonlight have all passed away!”

There is one more song, which when I hear it present day, brings back the spirit of my father; the pining, sentimental lyrics of “Seasons in the Sun,” a worldwide one hit wonder made famous in the 1970’s by singer Terry Jacks.

“We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun but the wine and the song like the seasons all have gone… All our life we had fun we had seasons in the sun but the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach…”

My dear dad himself departed this world, far too soon… But not without one last song to be sung.

On one of my last visits to see him, I slowly walked that bleak and sterile hospital hallway, knowing my father was nearing the end of his life. Approaching his room I paused. There it was. That distinct high pitched voice in serenade. Entering, I saw my sister in the corner and his three grandchildren neatly tucked beside him.

And knowing his days were dear, he sang to us the song he loved.“

“You take the high road and I’ll take the low road but I”ll be in Scotland afore ye.” Where wild flowers spring and the wee birdies sing
On the steep, steep side of Loch Lomond”

Published by Kathy Simmons

I am an ex New Yorker who still misses the vibrancy of the city. I seek out the humor in every day life and relay it through my stories in the hope others will appreciate as well. I love to write about growing up with my fantastically unique Irish mother whose memory inspires me every day. Although she is no longer with us, her antics are an endless staple for my tales. I currently live in Connecticut with my husband, two sons and toy fox terrier Anabel.

142 thoughts on “Songs my Father Sang”

    1. That was a photo of him I think in Scotland I found tucked away in a shoebox. And loved. In later years he ran an Irish pub called Rosie O’Gradies in NYC where my sister and I waitressed. You can read story on my menu if you like. My father was great man. Funny, truthful, and above all, brimming with positivity. He just loved life. As a matter of fact, one of his favorite sayings to me was, “It’s a great life, isn’t it Kathy?” Thanks for reading Joey.

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  6. I loved this! Partly because you have reminded me of my own mother’s lovely singing voice.

    The song Mairsey Doats was a big hit record during WWII (a group called the Merry Macs had the biggest hit with it).

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  12. I’m crying. I hope you have recordings of him & copies of that photo shared with others! I have a couple recordings of my dad singing. I loved it when he sang, it was occasional. I recorded stories he told & have voicemails from him & mom recorded & on a cd through “Voicemails Forever.” I put them on flash drives & gave them to 3 family members. Losing Mom made me wish I had more than 1 short video of her & transformed me into a recording monster with my last surviving parent. I’m so glad your family was blessed with your dad & he in turn blessed with his family. I kept my dad’s old shoeshine box to remind me how dapper he was when he didn’t have his work overalls on.

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  13. My father didn’t sing a lot and generally had a tough life. But, when I feel like I can’t remember his voice anymore … I remember him singing. His voice would dip, going a bit deeper in octave and it comes back to me. Thanks for sharing your happy memory!

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  16. Kathy, I loved your tribute to your father! You re-created such special shared moments. He gave you your love of life.
    How lucky you were to have him as your father!

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  17. That piece brought back the particular hush that falls when someone sings unselfconsciously in a car. The way you describe your father’s deep Scottish voice lifting into the high parts of Loch Lomond, and then singing it once more in the hospital, stayed with me. Those small, repeated performances become the real inheritance.

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  18. What sweet memories! Reading your tender recollections reminded me of my Mother, who also sang and hummed often. Marzy Dotes was one of many. In church she went to her high Soprano voice, which was intimidating to us boys. One time, in church someone on a nearby pew complemented her on her ‘nice voice’. Mom thought they had said ‘nice boys’ and she said we were not always this well behaved. That reply perplexed her complimentor completely. 🎼

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    1. Love that story Chuck! I am glad you enjoyed. I was blessed to have such wonderful parents and am grateful for them every day. My Irish born mother was a true character and on my blog I have written several stories about her antics that are funny and poignant. If you have not read you might really like, “On the Road Again,” and “Love Letter to Ireland, Gift of my Mother” both which can be found on my menu. “Whisked Away” about my mom’s habit of throwing away things is also fun! Thank you for great comment.

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      1. I took the Ancestry DNA test and discovered I was more Irish Ancestry then I imagined. Then this past summer I visited Ireland and felt so awed and at home. Mom’s tunes seemed to be more Germanic, I wish more of the Irish culture had passed down.

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      2. You need to start singing some Irish Tunes!Two of my very favorites, “Fields of Athenry” and “The Town I loved so well” Paddy Reilly sings beautifully. Look up on You Tube”. There is an Irish radio station broadcast from Fordham University every Sun Noon to 4pm. I grew up with my mother listening in our kitchen, every single Sunday. A lovely memory. Not sure where u live but you can find radio station on your computer. Name is Ceol na nGael WFUV 90.7 FM ☘️only on Sun at noon

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      1. I had a similar type father. I wrote about him in my book, You Can Take the Girl From the Prairie. We were both blessed. BTW, I found you via Charles French. Glad I did.

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    2. Darlene I just visited your delightful and truly magical site. I love it and congratulations on such success. My dream is to write a book comprised of memories of my unique Irish mother. I have written several stories of her on my blog. One of my favorites has a bit of a mystical tone and you may enjoy:

      Love Letter to Ireland – the Gift of My Mother

      My second favorite involves my mother’s driving escapades and was featured recently on Freshly Pressed…https://nynkblog.com/2022/05/08/on-the-road-again/

      Perhaps an upcoming Amanda in Ireland☘️? I can offer all the best hidden destinations for her journey.

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  21. This was once explained to me in regular English

    “Oh! Mairzy doats and dozy doats = Mares eat oats and Does eat oats
    And liddle lamzy divey     = And little lambs eat ivy

    Maybe that will solve the mystery. But it is a cute and lively song.

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  22. Thank you Charles French for sharing this story, so close to my heart. Today is my birthday and although it is raining in Connecticut your “gift” made my day extra special💕

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    1. I shared this story on a Scottish Facebook page and the beautiful comments I received (over 500) expressed gratitude for memories of songs their own families sang. It was really lovely. Thx for reading Andrew.

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    1. Indeed there is always that melancholy in both Irish and Scottish heritage but it is coupled with a strength that is immense in carrying on through memory, and song. Thank you for reading of my father.

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  31. Hi Kathy
    My father used to sing with me when driving. We both liked it. Unfortunately, I can’t remember his repertoire.
    Thanks for reminding me of this great time with my father
    Klausbernd 🙂

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  38. Pingback: Songs my Father Sang – Mental Health Tips & Advice!

  40. This reminded me of when my father used to sing to lull me to sleep when I was younger. I hope I never forget those days.
    These are lovely memories, thanks for sharing!

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  41. I could identify with that, most definitely. Not through personal experience, but just a general perception of what is Scots are really like.

    We can be loud and brash, extrovert and fun … but also very melancholy and though qe’ d never admit it, very sentimental.

    That’s exactly how your dad comes across in you r piece. A fitting tribute, I’m sure.

    (To my shame, I never knew the roots of the Loch Lomond song! )

    😀🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

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    1. My dad always had a sentimental side and a wicked sense of humor. I wrote another story entitled, “In the Company of Women” because I was one of 4 girls but my dad treasured us. Now you know the story of Loch Lomond even if a wee bit late🌝. Thank you for reading Cee

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    1. Thank you for that honest and selfless comment Jessa, that you could imagine and appreciate what it might have been like. I am sorry you did not have a dad close in your life but hope you had other special people that allowed you special memories of your own.

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  48. Oh how what lovely memories of your dad. Sorry that he’s no longer with you. I see that his songs are though. In that way you will always have him near. Thanks for sharing such a touching post. Cheers, Dawn

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  49. This touching story celebrates a father’s love through the songs he shared with his family. His singing brought comfort, joy, and unforgettable memories, especially traditional Scottish songs like Loch Lomond. Even during life’s hardest moments, music became his way of expressing love and hope. His final serenade before passing left a lasting reminder that love, family, and cherished memories never truly fade.

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  51. *This is such a moving tribute, Kathy. What stays with me is the way you frame those spontaneous serenades in the car as a feeling more than a memory safety, comfort, the first embrace of springtime. That’s exactly how a parent’s voice lives on in us. And the detail that his pitch rose a little whenever he sang of Scotland says so much about how love and homeland intertwined for him. Then that final image of walking the hospital hallway and hearing that familiar high voice one last time singing Loch Lomond, I had to pause there. What a gift, that he chose to leave you

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    1. Thank you for this beautiful response to my story. Your thoughts proved to me that I was successful in doing what I had hoped in describing my father and those songs. And how it made us feel so comforted and safe. Although I miss him immeasurably, these memories bring enormous comfort. And gratitude for his love. I appreciate your reading💕

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      2. I love that comment Nikki… Songs coursing through his soul. Yes! He did this other thing I didn’t put in my story that for some reason I just now remembered. When he wasn’t sure of the words he would fill in with “Deedle-dee, deedle dee…” was so endearing. Oh how I miss him but am so grateful I had him as I know many are not as fortunate.

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  58. Pingback: Songs my Father Sang – Brain disorders & other General topics of the day

  59. Really special.
    I wish to share this as i read through my dad’s memories kept flashing.
    Yesterday was my father’s birthday. My child asks: If God would make his grandpa(nanu) a cake to celebrate his birthday in heaven. Trying my best to stop my tears, I answered there he will be granted the best cake.

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  60. What a heartfelt tribute to your father….you took me back years, as my Scottish father, too, sang though in his case it was when he was home – everything from opera to music hall, as the fancy took him and memories alighted….
    I remember ‘cigarereets and whisky’….he would be singing that while getting ready to go out to some staid evening event with my mother. I asked him why that song came to mind, and he said ‘Hope springs eternal!’

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    1. Oh this makes me so happy Helen. I would have loved your father. There is a FB page I joined called “O Flower of Scotland” and I shared this story. It has hundreds of comments just like yours!!! If you are interested, join group and you will love to read these comments such wonderful memories of song💕

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  61. Thank you for this deeply touching tribute. By the time I finished reading the piece, I felt I knew your father. I could almost hear him singing from the back seat of that station wagon, and then, heartbreakingly, one last time in the hospital.

    I hesitate to intrude upon the poignant beauty of your remembrance, but I cannot help saying that it brought back my own father, who was also prone to sudden, moody recitations of the poems he loved. Thank you for awakening a memory I had not revisited in a long while.

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  63. This is what the world is missing right now ; bonding, the flurry of information has increased but people weren’t listening and watching each other closely to establish a true relationships cast in gold. Nice piece, thanks

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  64. What a lovely tribute! I sing to my daughter everyday, we have songs for every occasion, every moment. I wish she would remember them in a same way as you do! So vividly, so gracefully and so emotionally!

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  65. How lovely. My Scottish father didn’t sing much, and when he did it was mostly the nonsense songs, including Dozy Dotes. He made dreadful puns and, when I hear a particularly good/bad one I want to tell him.

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  66. I don’t know if this has already been said, but the silly song “Oh! Mairzy doats and dozy doats
    And liddle lamzy divey
    A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?” is really “Mares eat oats, and does eat oats/ And little lambs eat ivy/ A kid (baby goat)’ll (will) eat ivy too/ Wouldn’t you? And, I never understood that song either, until I watched the TV series Twin Peaks several years ago! 🙂

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  67. Lovely tribute Kathy! My memories are of Mom playing the piano; classical music (Chopin my best); hymns to be ready to play them in church; at their many parties, popular songs, incl some of yr Dad’s; she still plays daily. She’ll be 98 next month. Yr Dad sounds super-special!

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  70. Oh Kathy, that tugged at my heartstrings. So well crafted, so well remembered and enshrined.

    Thanks for passing by my little nest. I’ll surely be visiting yours many times.

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  71. What a memorable and beautiful tradition. Our family sangs Mairzy doats too: If the words are unclear and funny to your ear, a little bit dimsy and divey, sing Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy…” Great memories.

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