4 songs

4 Songs;

VIZ.

MAGGIE M'APIE'S LILT.

A Highland Laddie heard of War.

Donald Caird.

I'VE NAETHING TO DO. &c.

My auld maiden Auntie and I!!

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EDIN^R.—Printed for the Booksellers.

MAGGIE McAPIE'S LILT.

TUNE—Toddlin' lut and toddlin' ben.

As Maggie M'Apie wat driving her wheel,
Blithe Maggie sung cheery, and Maggie, sings weel,
And thus she gaed on, an wi nae little glee-
Sin' Johnie's turn'd Temp'rate how happy are we,
He says an' she feels that hn is better far,
Than when he frequented the BULL or the STAR,

He's aye hame in time, an' gangs sober to bed
An' up in the morning aye wi' a hale head.
⁠The strongest he drinks now is Coffee or tea!
⁠Sin' Johnie's turn'd Temp'rate how happy are we

He wasna lang enter'd, an ere Johnie wist,
We land lam on the cleek, and meal in the list,
For now he takes care an' brings hame his ban-
An' we never want a lit butter or cheese. (bees,
The weans are fu canty, an' liker their meal
We are never fash'd wi' him stoppin out late;
Than they used to be, when John took his DEAD,
What they gand for whisky we now hae in bread.
⁠The strongest he drinks now &c.

The Publican Locusts they mak up their trash,
(For it wastes the body as weel na the Cash)
Sae truly says Johni, an' weel Johnie kens
That it is ruination to enter their DENS,
Yes, DENS I will ca them, an' no the best kind,
Gang in an' get tipy, an that ye will find,
For some try to plunder whae'er they get in,
Be't Dandy or Drover they'll fleece to the skin.
Avoid them, my friends, an' drink Coffee or Tea,
⁠Sin' Johnie, &c.

Baith me an' my bairns were a' fleein in rags,
While sailin in silks are the Public House hags,
An' at our expense, I will tell'd to their face,
But Temp'rance Society will alter the case.
The Temp'rance Society I'm happy to tell
Is makin' my neebours a happy's mysel'
There's Girzy's Gudeman he has got a new coat
Sin' he lost the road to the Sign i' Steam-Boat.
⁠The strongest he drinks now, &c.
⁠An Girzy, puir body's as happy as me

Now some say to temper themsells the will try,
But somehow or ither they often get dry,
At times they may splice just for a single gill,
But then' tis a pity guid Company to spill,
Frae gills to half-mutchkins when ance they're begun,
Then Teddy, when ance they are fair on the RUN.
O! wad they be wise, like our "Johnie and me,
An drink naething stronger than Coffee or Tea,
⁠The strongest he drinks now, &c."

A Highland Laddie heard of War.

A Highland Laddie heard of War,
⁠Which set his heart in motion,
He heard the distant cannon roar—
⁠He saw the smiling ocean.

Come weal, come woe, to sea he'd go,
⁠And left, on a morning early,
Lochlomond Ben, and the willow glen,
⁠And Jenny that loved him dearly.

He wandered east, he wandered south,
⁠But joy he could not find it,
But he found out this wholesome truth,
⁠And had the sense to mind it.

Of a the earth, the bonny North,
⁠To cherish, late and early;
Lochlomond Ben, and the willow glen,
⁠And Jenny that loved him dearly.

DONALD CAIRD.

⁠Donald Caird's come again :
⁠Donald Caird's some again:
⁠Tell the news in burgh and glen,
⁠Donald Caird's come again.

Donald Cuird can lilt and sing,
Blythely dance the Highland fling
Drink till the guidman be blind;
Fleece till the guidewife be kind;—
Hoop a liglin, cloot a pan,
Crack a pow wi' ony man
Tell the news in burgh and glen,
Donald Caird's come again.

Donald Caird can wire a maukin,
Kens the wiles o dun deer stawkin;
Leisters kipper, makes a shift
To shoot moorfowl in the drift.
Water bailiffs, rangers, keepers,
He can wauk when you are sleepers:
Not for bountith or reward
Dare you mill,wi' Donald Caird.

Donald Caird can drink a gill
Fast as hostle wite can fill;
Ilka ane that sells good liquor
Kens how Donald bends a bicker.
When he's fou he's stout and saucy
Keeps the candle o'the causey:
Highland chief and Lowland laird,
Maun gie room to Donald Caird.

Steek the amrie lock the kist,
Else some gear may soon be mist;
Donald Caird finds orra things,
Where Allan Gregor fand the tings;
Dunts o’ kebbue, tails o’ woo,
Whiles a hen, and whiles a sow;
Wabs o’ duds, frae hedge or yard—
'Ware the woody, Donald Caird.

On Donald Caird the doom was stern,
Craig to tether—legs to airn;
But Donald Caird, wi muckle study,
Caught the gift to cheat the woody.
Rings o’ airn and bolts o’ steel,
Fell like ice from han’ an’ heel: —
Watch the sheep in fauld and glen,
Donald Caird s come again.

⁠Donald Caird’s come again;
⁠Donald Caird’s come again;
⁠Dinna let the Shirra ken,
⁠Donald Caird’s come again.

MY AULD MAIDEN AUNTIE.

I’ve naething to do but to sit and to spin,
And crack wi' my auld maiden aunty;
Our goudping neighbours come dribbling is,
And aye keep a body fu' canty, fu' canty,
And nye keep a body fu' ranty.

But our thoughts like the weather are given to
I sigh'd day and night to get married; [change,
And I'm sore gif there aught like a man had made love,
His suit wi' me soon he had carried—had carried—.
His suit wi' me soon be had carried

My aunty's sae peevish, her temper's sae sour,
She wearies us a' wi' inspection:
She frowns at the mark on prin on the floor,
Oar neighbours a'ca' her Perfection—Perfection-
Oar neighbours a'ca' her Perfection.

The hale o' her pleasure is snuff and green tea,
And her auld-fashion'd satins to number:
Ae day she wad try how her hoops fitted me,
And near squeezed my body asunder—asunder—
And near squeezed my body asunder.

She sneers like the fox when I speak about men,
I wonder what makes a wark at—
For I'm sure if her mother's example she'd ta'en
She never had stood in the market—the market—
She never had stood in the market.

But wha but our neighbour's son Johnny's come hame
Since the wars were so happily ended?
He tells me my beauty has kindled a flame—
My aunt wad gang daft if she kenn'd it,—she kenn'd it—
My aunt wad gang daft if she kenn'd it.

Twas only yestreen like a statue I sat,
When to hand me the kettle he hurried,
Ho trod on the tail o' my aunt's tabby cat,
She raved sae, I wished the brute worried—brute worried—
She raved sae I wished the brute worried.

To-morrow she'll scandal the hale o'the sex,
⁠And ca' me the vilest o' ony:
For I'll bid her guid day ere the sun's in the east
⁠And off to the Highlands wi' Johnny—wi' Johnny—
⁠And aff to the Highlands wi' Johnny.

Disaster of the Irishman's Wife
At a Scotch Fair.

"I was broke down from being a decent Swatiewife to cry praties, for it was by the hands of Mikee McEvoy, my husband that my cap was tore aff my head intil tatthers; throth you micht riddle bull-dogs thro it. And my hair-kim was broke intil three halves!!!!