A statement of A4S principles.

It means to give Direct Democratic Voice to all Scots,and welcomes all groups,political or otherwise,and all people who are not politically inclined,but believe firmly In Scottish Independence.
No political party owns Independence, only the people can.
We will endeavour to expand this movement to allow every voice to be heard for this cause.

A Facebook group page has currently been set up. Aye4Scotland, please add your voice.

Further developments include a WebBlog, should be live in the next 48 hours, all who wish to contribute, please let me know. All Welcome.

A Domain name is held,and hosting available for Aye4Scotland. Currently seeking a Web Designer to build Website.

A twitter account is also now active.

It all will take a wee while to get fully up to speed, and it will need all of you to help. So pile on in. After all your voice is Our Voice!


8 Responses to Aye4Scotland

  1. I know a diplomat, retired in Vienna, and have just e-mailed him about Dr James Wilkie.

    It may take a while for him to respond as he does haunt Greece at the moment, despite the fact that he is retired.

  2. Anne Ross says:

    Glad to see some another site for discussion of independence. I’ll be following your progress.
    Independence Woman

    • Hi Anne… The web page was set up very early on in the campaign.. .but has been dormant for a long time.

      I don’t know if it will be revitalised again, as there are very many web pages that do the same thing.

      A4S has effectively remained a facebook group page, and also on twitter.
      All my articles go forth via these, and discussion is moved forwards by other participants in these facebook and twitter places.

  3. Reider O'Doom says:

    Your link to Derek Bateman’s blog on your blogroll seems to be to his old blog and therefore isn’t working any more.
    Just thought you’d like to know.

  4. James King says:

    Dear Audacquaintance, please find below, ‘Freemen Stand, Freemen Fa’ that I’ve dusted doon given the current claims for Indy Ref 2.

    It wis dreich, Ah wis drookit, as Ah daundered oan doon,
    the mockit auld main street o’ this dreary toon.
    Whaur shutters wur screaming the scrawls o’ the idle,
    and facades wur hingin, ……….the toon suicidal.

    Whaur wance it wis vibrant, wi guid Scots conceit,
    and shipyerds and foundries, enclosed every street.
    Whaur furnaces roared and whaur anchors wur casted,
    and hooters and foghorns roon neighbourhoods blasted.

    Whaur wifies at steamies pushed prams fu o’ waashin,
    and lovers doon dunny’s exhausted their passion.
    Whaur tenement windies framed grannies at blether,
    and weans played it peever regardless o’ weather.

    Whaur hammers noo silent grow ghostly and grey,
    the murmurs o’ menfolk oan the breeze blawn away.
    Whaur wance ocean liners were berthed side by side,
    the docks noo ur empty, loast pride oan the Clyde.

    Ah looked ower rooftaps, whaur flags fluttered proud,
    those banners and emblems of an empire unbowed.
    And wi churches and steeples in steadfast reserve,
    Aw those symbols of status and rank tae preserve.

    Ah turned up ma coaller against the braw breeze,
    an fished roon ma poackets for mislaid bawbees.
    Ma spirits wur fading, ma heid wis jouked doon,
    Ah wished that the wind wid soon blaw a new tune.

    Ah glanced ower the watter, amid huge commotion,
    It wis then that Ah seen her – emerge fae the ocean.
    Britannia! resplendent! and pounding her shield,
    and thrusting her trident screaming she’ll never yield.

    In her toff’s tongue, she ranted and raved fae afar,
    this huge ghostly wummin, suspended in haar.
    Ah stood there jist gawpin, ma jaw oan my chist,
    this ethereal wummin, how she cursed and she hissed:

    “If it’s Yes that you vote, one will be less than impressed!
    our glorious union are so outraged and distressed!
    That you’ve listened to Salmond and the old commonweal,
    than to my Darling the Charlie and his Devo Max deal!

    And as we have warned, how your teeth they will gnash,
    as you succumb to the whisky, the drugs and the hash!
    You’ll be expelled out of Europe – yes – a pariah you’ll be,
    And you’ll need set up customs, at Berwick-on-Sea!

    And we’ll block your appointment to the UN assembly,
    and we’ll never allow you to come back down to Wembley!
    And that Hadrian ’s Wall you had best resurrect,
    For I’ll no longer be there for your backs to protect!

    And just you remember what belongs to US too,
    Polaris and Trident, and the red, white and blue.
    So in the words o’ your dirge, you better go think again,
    Because we’re hanging on tightly to Coulport and Faslane!

    And we’ll freeze all the Sterling, in our big Saxon’s Bank,
    And your saving’s we’ll wash down our Chancellor’s stank.
    And you can’t declare war, or your own interest rate set,
    And you’re going to regret not being Britannia’s wee pet!”

    Ah stepped back dumfoonert, as she jist rambled on,
    And confirmed tae masel Ah’d no supped Barleycorn.
    So it wisnae the whisky and it wisnae the wine,
    and it wisnae the DT’s cause ma heid wis jist fine.

    So Ah pulled aff ma jaiket and stood ma full height,
    and challenged her union and perception of right:
    ‘So Ye question oor motives, say oor future’s forlorn,
    yer doomsayer’s scenario attracts only scorn.

    Aye, yer Birkies ca’d Lords, ower palaces stride,
    wi their plotting and scheming and motives tae hide.
    They know we want chynge and they know we want joabs,
    while busy getting measured fur their Camp ermine robes.

    How they’ve flattered and fawned, how their souls they hiv selt,
    in unswerving obedience they’ve bowed and they’ve knelt.
    Aye, their forelock’s they’ve tugged, and their loyalty feigned,
    while the poor and the needy their spirits they’ve drained.

    How they queued fur their titles and perfumed accolades,
    As redundancies tripled as the price tae be paid.
    So nair mair the shipyerds, the foundries or coal,
    As oil proved the poultice fur the Tories black hole.

    Then alang daunders Tony and Big Bawheid Broon,
    Wi obsequious offerings fur this toon tae turn roon.
    Promises proved pointless – as they’re aw built on sand,
    while ego’s are driven tae match banker’s demands.

    And they took us tae war in those faraway places,
    Wi the consequences written across dispossessed faces.
    In the words o’ Mclean they are dripping in blood,
    While demands for a new world gather pace like a flood.

    Cause we’re sick tae the back teeth o’ deceit, spin and lies,
    It’s a new sang we want that burns steadfast fae oor eyes.
    it’s about principle and values and oor ain sense o’ esteem,
    It’s for justice and freedom and democracy’s dream.

    Tae be free fae delusions o’ the zealous warmonger.
    And whaur weans need nae suffer fae abuse or fae hunger.
    Whaur oor auld folk ur cared for wi pride and respect,
    And whaur we actually get government we elect.

    So Mrs Britannia, jist You remember your station,
    If tae the hielands ye’d send us in repatriation.
    Tae again burn oor tartan, and again plank the plaid,
    As your parcel o’ rogues aw these truths they evade.

    Or oor wee Viking chessmen, you’ll mibbee return,
    In exchange fur the black stuff at the auld Coldstream burn?
    If fur freedom we strive and fur freedom we vote.
    we might need some planning tae bring back the Groat!

    Or wid ye prefer if we’d jist haud oor wheest,
    And yearnings fur freedom tae keep tightly leashed?
    And if we agreed tae jist dae as we’re telt,
    Wid yer pals bring in a new Bill, ca’d The Pacified Celt!

    In her fury she stood back in shock and in awe,
    and ma sense o’ forebodin – well it wis jist blawn awa.
    The storm it wis breaking wi the sun shining through,
    and a huge white crossed Saltire in the sky Ah could view.

    And oan the horizon a dawning braw light,
    As Britannia subsumed to our claim and oor right.
    So brave Dooniwassels yer velvet’s brush doon,
    tae govern wi conscience, and auld Alba turn roon.

    As anither auld sang, breathes its last final sigh,
    A nation arises wi a resounding loud AYE!
    A time fur reflection, and for sound affirmation,
    Of the spirit and promise of The Arbroath Declaration!

    James King, 7th September 2014

  5. Helen Tinline says:

    If I had the same gift of poetry and expression you have, I’d have written exactly what you wrote. Brought tears to my eyes. Thank you.

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