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 beautiful though always forlorn “Beautiful Dreamer…”

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”