John Highlandman's remarks
on Glasgow.
Her nainsel into Glasgow went,
an errand there to see't.
And she never saw a bonnier town,
standing on her feet.
For a' the houses that be there,
were theeket wi' blue stanes,
And a stane ladder to gang up,
no sa' to break her banes.
I gang upon a stony road,
a street thay do him ca'.
And when me seek the chapman's house,
his name be on the wa'
I gang to buy a snish tamback,
and standing at the crose,
And there I see a dead man,
was riding on his horse.
And O he be a poor man,
and no hae mony claes,
Te brogs be worn aff his feet,
and me see a' his taes.
⟨Te⟩ horse hud up his muckle fit,
for to gie me a shap,
And gaping wi' his great meuth,
to grip me by the tap.
He had a staff into his hand,
to fight me an he could,
But herself be ran awa' frae him,
his horse be unco proud.
But I be rin around about,
and stand about the Guard,
Where I see the deil chap the hours,
tan me grow unco fear'd,
Ohon, ohon, her nainsel said,
and whar will me go rin?
For yonder be the black man,
that burns the souk for sin.
I'll no be stay nae langer here.
but fast me rin awa
And see te man thrawing te reaps
aside the Broomy law;
And O she be a lang tedder,
I spier'd what they'll do wi't?
He said to hang the Highlandmen,
for stealing of their meat.
Hout, hersels an honest shentleman,
I never yet did steal,
But when I meet a muckle purse,
I like it unco well.
Tan fare you well you saucy fellow,
I fain your skin would pay;
I came to your town the morn, but,
as I'll gang out yeasterday.
Fan I gang to my quarter-house,
the door was unco braw,
For here they had a cow's husband,
was pricked ou the wa.
O tere me got a shappin ale,
and ten me got a supper,
A filthy choud of chappet meat,
boil'd amang a butter.
It was a filthy dirt o' beef,
his banes was like te horn,
She was a calf wantine de skin,
before that we was born.
I gang awa into te kirk,
to hear a lawland preach,
And mony a bonny sang they sing,
tere books they did them teach.
And tere I saw a bonny mattam,
wi' feathers on her weim,
I wonder an she be gan to flee,
or what be in her myn.
Another mattams fellow her,
wha's arse was round like cogs,
And clitter clatter cries her feet,
she had on iron brogs.
And tere I saw another mattam,
into a tarry ⟨sack⟩,
And twa ⟨mans be⟩ carry her,
wi' rapes about hims neck.
She ⟨pe⟩ sae fou o' vanity,
as no gang on the grun,
But twa poor mans be carry her,
in a barrow cover'd abune.
Some had fish tail to their mouth,
and some pe had a ponnet,
But my Janet and Donald's wife
wad rathet hae a bannock.
FNS