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WE'RE A' GAUN SOUTHIE O.
Tune—"The Merry lads of Ayr."
An old song.
Callum cam to Campbell's court,
An' saw ye e'er the make o't;
Pay'd twenty shillings for a thing,
An' never got a straik o't.
We're a' gaun southie O.
We're a' gaun there;
An' we're a' gaun to Mauchline fair,
To sell our pickle hair.
Pay'd twenty shillings for a quine,
Her name was Kirsty Lauchlan;
But Callum took her by the c—t,
Before the laird o' Mauchline.
We're a', &c.
Callum cam to Kirsty's door,
Says, Kirsty are ye sleepin'?
No sae soun' as ye wad trow,
Ye'se get the thing ye're seekin'.
We're a', &c.
Callum had a peck o' meal,
Says Kirsty, will ye draik it?
She whippit aff her wee white coat,
An' birket at it nakit.
We're a', &c.
Bonie lassie, braw lassie,
Will ye hae a soger?
Then she took up her duddie sark,
An' he shot in his Roger.
We're a', &c.
Kind kimmer Kirsty,
I lo'e wi' a' my heart, O,
An' when there's ony p—t—s gaun,
She'll ay get a part, O.
We're a', &c.
