8
Now they a’ in Luckie’s bad landed,,
Twa rounds at the bicker to try,
The Whiskey and Till round was bonded.
And Baps in great bourocks did lie;
Blind Aleck, the fiddler, was trysted,
And he was to handle the bow,
On a big barrel head was hoisted,
TV keep himsel’ out o’ the row.
Mad ye seen sic a din and gafaaing; Sic hooching and dancing was there; Sic rugging, and riving, and drawing, Was ne'er before seen in a fair; Foe Tam, he wi’ Maggie was wheeling, And he gied sic a terrible loup, That his head came a thump on the ceiling, And be cam down wi’ a dunt on his doup.
Now they ate, and they drank, till their bellies Were bent like the head o’ a drum, Syne they raise, and caport like filies Whene'er that the fiddle play’d bum: “ Screw her up, and be quick, matt, You’ll scrape and palaver a’ day; Come, see a baud o’ your stick, man, I’ll gie them twa lilts o' Pea Strae."
Wi’ dancing they now are grown weary, And scarcely were able to stan’; So they took to the road a’ fu’ cheery, As day was beginning to dawn: A' paighing Tam filled up the bicker, "Gibbie, this toast maun gae roun', Success to Auld Glasgow for ever. May it aye be u flourishing town.”!
FINIS.
