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They banished him beyond the sea,
But, ere the bud was on the tree,
Adown my cheeks the pearls ran,
Embracing my John Highlandman.

But, oh! they catched him at the last,
And bound him in a dungeon fast;
My curse upon them every one !
They've hanged my braw John Highlandman

And now a widow I must mourn
The pleasures that will ne'er return;
Nae comfort but a hearty can
When I think on John Highlandman

A pigmy scraper, wi' his fiddle,
Wha used at trysts and fairs to driddle,
Her strappan limb and gaucy middle,

(He reached nae higher,) Had holed his heartie like a riddle,

An' blawn't on fire,

Wi' hand on haunch, an' upward e'e,
He crooned his gamut, one, two, three,
Then in an arioso key,

The wee Apollo
Set off wi' allegretto glee

His giga solo.

Let me ryke up to dight that tear,
And go wi' me and be my dear,
And then your every care and fear

May whistle owre the lave o't.

I am a fiddler to my trade,
And a' the tunes that e'er I played,
The sweetest still to wife or maid,

Was whistle owre the lave o't.

At kirns and weddings we'se be there,
And oh! sae nicely's we will fare ;
We 'll bouse about till Daddy Care

Sings whistle owre the lave o't.

Sae merrily the banes we 'll pyke,
And sun oursel's about the dyke,
And at our leisure, when ye like,

We'll whistle owre the lave o't.

But bless me wi' your heaven o'charms, And while I kittle hair on thairms, Hunger, cauld, and a' sic harms,

May whistle owre the lave o't.


Her charms had struck a sturdy caird

As weel as poor gut-scraper; He taks the fiddler by the beard,

And draws a roosty rapier.

He swoor by a' was swearing worth,

To spit him like a pliver,
Unless he wad from that time forth

Relinquish her for ever.

Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee

Upon his hunkers bended,
And prayed for grace wi' ruefu' face ;

And sae the quarrel ended.

But though his little heart did grieve,

When round the tinkler pressed her, He feigned to snirtle in his sleeve,

When thus the caird addressed her:

My bonny lass, I work in brass,

A tinkler is my station ;
I've travelled round all Christian ground,

In this my occupation.
I've ta’en the gold, I've been enrolled

In many a noble squadron;
But vain they searched when off I marched
go and clout the caudron,

I've ta'en the gold, &c. Despise that shrimp, that withered imp,

Wi' a' his noise and caperin',
And tak a share wi' those that bear

The budget and the apron.
And by that stoup, my faith and houp,

An' by that dear Kilbagie,
If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant,
May I ne'er weet my cragie.

An' by that stoup, &c.

The caird led-th' unblushing fair

In his embraces sunk,
Partly wi' love, o'ercome sa sair,

An' partly she was drunk.
Sir Violino, with an air

That showed a man of spunk, Wished union between the pair, An' made the bottle clunk

To their health that night.

But urchin Cupid shot a shaft,

That played a dame a shavie,
The fiddler raked her fore and aft,

Behint the chicken cavie.
Her lord, a wight o' Homer's craft,

Though limpin' wi' the spavie,
He hirpled up, and lap like daft,
And shored them Dainty Davy

O'boot that night.

He was a care-defying blade

As ever Bacchus listed, Though Fortune sair

him laid, His heart she ever missed it. He had nae wish but-to be glad,

Nor want but-when he thirsted ; He hated nought but, to be sad, And thus the Muse suggested

His sang that night.


I am a bard of no regard,

Wi' gentle folks, an'a' that;
But Homer-like, the glowran byke,

Frae town to town I draw that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

An' twice as muckle's a' that; I've lost but ane, I've twa behin',

I've wife enough for a' that.

I never drank the Muses' stank,

Castalia's burn, an' a' that; But there it streams, and richly reams,

My Helicon I ca' that.

Great love I bear to a' the fair,

Their humble slave, an' a' that;
But lordly will, I hold it still

A mortal sin to thraw that.

In raptures sweet, this hour we meet,

Wi' mutual love, an' a' that ;
But for how lang the flie may stang,

Let inclination law that.

Their tricks and craft ha'e put me daft,

They've ta'en me in, an'a' that;
But clear your decks, and here's the sex!
I like the jades for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,

An' twice as muckles's a' that;
My dearest bluid, to do them guid,

They're welcome till’t for a' that.

So sang the bard-and Nancie's wa's
Shook wi' a thunder of applause,

Re-echoed from each mouth;
They toomed their pocks, an' pawned their duds,
They scarcely left to co'er their fuds,

To quench their lowan drouth.
Then owre again the jovial thrang

The poet did request,
To loose his pack an' wale a sang,

A ballad o' the best.
He, rising, rejoicing,

Between his two Deborahs, Looks round him, and found them

Impatient for the chorus.

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