TUNE "HEY CA' THRO"."
Up wi' the carles o' Dysart,
And the lads o' Buckhaven,
And the kimmers1 o' Largo,
And the lasses o' Leven.
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado;
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado.
We hae tales to tell,
And we hae sangs to sing;
We hae pennies to spend,
And we hae pints to bring.
We'll live a' our days,
And them that come behin',
Let them do the like,
And spend the gear they win.
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado;
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado.
WEARY FA' YOU, DUNCAN GRAY.
TUNE-" DUNCAN GRAY."
WEARY fa' you, Duncan Gray-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray—
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
When a' the lave gae to their play,
Then I maun sit the lee-lang day,
And jog the cradle wi' my tae,
And a' for the girdin o't.
Bonnie was the Lammas moon
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Glowrin' a' the hills aboon
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
I tint my curch,1 and baith my shoon;
Ah! Duncan, ye're an unco loon-
Wae on the bad girdin o't!
But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Ise bless you wi' my hindmost breath-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
The beast again can bear us baith,
And auld Mess John will mend the skaith,
And clout the bad girdin o't.
TUNE-" WHAT WILL I DO GIN MY HOGGIE DIE."
WHAT Will I do gin my Hoggie die?
My joy, my pride, my Hoggie!
My only beast, I had nae mae,
And vow but I was vogie!
The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld,
Me and my faithfu' doggie;
We heard nought but the roaring linn,
Amang the braes sae scroggie;
But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa'
The blitter frae the boggie,
The todo reply'd upon the hill,
I trembled for my Hoggie.
When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggie;
An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has kill'd my йoggie.
WHERE HAE YE BEEN.
TUNE "KILLIECRANKIE."
WHARE hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?
O, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?
Lost the covering for the head.
3 The hoggie, alias pet ewe, was Margaret Brodie, of Coxton, in Banffshire. The song was taken down by Burns from the singing of an old woman in Liddesdale.--Buchan.
ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been so cantie, O;
An' ye had seen what I hae seen,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
I fought at land, I fought at sea:
At hame I fought my auntie, O;
But I met the Devil an' Dundee,
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,1
An' Clavers got a clankie, O;
Or I had fed an Athole gled,2
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
COCK UP YOUR BEAVER.
TUNE-" COCK UP YOUR BEAVER."
WHEN first my brave Johnnie lad
Came to this town,
He had a blue bonnet
That wanted the crown;
But now he has gotten
A hat and a feather,-
Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!
Cock up your beaver,
And cock it fu' sprush,
We'll over the border
And gie them a brush;
There's somebody there
We'll teach better behaviour
Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!
WHOM Will you send to London town,
To Parliament and a' that?
Or wha in a' the country round
The best deserves to fa' that?
3 This is the first of several ballads which Burns wrote to serve Patrick Heron, of Kerroughtree, in two elections, in which he was opposed, first by Gordon, of Balmaghie, and secondly by the Hon. Montgomery Stewart.Allan Cunningham.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Thro' Galloway and a' that,
Where is the laird, or belted knight,
That best deserves to fa' that?
Wha sees Kerroughtree's open yett,
And wha is't never saw that?
Wha ever wi' Kerroughtree met,
And has a doubt of a' that;
For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that;
The independent patriot,
The honest man, an' a' that.
Tho' wit and worth in either sex,
St. Mary's Isle can shaw that;
Wi' dukes an' lords let Selkirk mix,
And weel does Selkirk fa' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
The independent commoner
Shall be the man for a' that.
But why should we to nobles jouk ?
And it's against the law that;
For why, a lord may be a gouk,
Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A lord may be a lousy loun,
Wi' ribbon, star, an' a' that.
A beardless boy comes o'er the hills,
Wi' uncle's purse an' a' that;
But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels,
A man we ken, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that!
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
For we're not to be bought an' sold
Like naigs, an' nowt, an' a' that.
Then let us drink the Stewartry,
Kerroughtree's laird, an' a' that,
Our representative to be,
For weel he's worthy a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A House of Commons such as he,
They would be blest that saw that.
Fy, let us a' to Kirkcudbright,
For there will be bickerin' there;
For Murray's light-horse are to muster,
And O, how the heroes will swear!
An' there will be Murray commander,
And Gordon the battle to win;
Like brothers they'll stand by each other,
Sae knit in alliance an' kin.
An' there will be black-lippit Johnnie,
The tongue o' the trump to them a';
An' he get na hell for his haddin',
The Deil gets na justice ava';
An' there will be Kempleton's birkie,
A boy no sae black at the bane,
But, as for his fine nabob fortune,
We'll e'en let the subject alane.
An' there will be Wigton's new sheriff,
Dame Justice fu' brawlie has sped,
She's gotten the heart of a Bushby,
But, Lord, what's become o' the head?
An' there will be Cardoness, Esquire,
Sae mighty in Cardoness' eyes;
A wight that will weather damnation,—
For the Devil the prey will despise.
An' there will be Douglasses doughty,
New christ'ning towns far and near!
Abjuring their democrat doings,
By kissing the o' a peer;
An' there will be Kenmure sae gen'rous,
Whose honour is proof to the storm ;-
To save them from stark reprobation,
He lent them his name to the firm.
But we winna mention Redcastle,
The body, e'en let him escape!
He'd venture the gallows for siller,
An' 'twere na the cost o' the rape.
An' where is our King's lord lieutenant,
Sae fam'd for his gratefu' return?
The billie is gettin' his questions,
To say in St. Stephen's the morn.
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