ANDREW WI' HIS CUTTY GUN.
Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she butt an' ben;
Weel she lo'ed a Hawick gill.
And leugh to see a tappit hen.
She took me in, she set me down,
She hecht to keep me lawin-free;
But, wylie Carlin that she was!
She gart me birl my bawbee.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
I lo'ed the liquor weel eneugh.
But, waes my heart, my cash ran done,
Lang or I had quench'd my drouth,
And laith I was to pawn my shoon!
Blythe, blythe, &c.
When we had three times toom'd the stowp,
And the neist chappin new begun,
Wha started in to heeze our hope,
But Andrew wi' his cutty gun.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
The Carlin brought her kebbuck ben,
And girdle-cakes weel toasted brown;
Weel did the cannie kimmer ken
It gart the swats gae glibber down.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
We ca'd the bicker aft about,
Till dawning we ne'er jeed our bun;
And ay the cleanest drinker out
Was Andrew wi' his cutty gun.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
He did like any mavis sing,
While she below his oxter sat;
He ca'd her ay his bonnie thing,
And mony a sappy kiss she gat.
Blythe, blythe, &c,
I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been far ayont the sun,
But the cleverest lad that e'er I saw,
Was Andrew wi' his cutty gun.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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