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ALLISTER M'ALLISTER.
O Allister McAllister,
Your chanter sets us a'astir,
Then to your bags, and blaw wi' bir,
We'll dance the Highland fling.
Now Allister has tun'd his pipes,
And thrang as bum bees frae their ykes,
The lads and lasses loup the dykes,
And gather on the green.
O Allister McAllister. &c.
The miller Hab was fidging fain
To dance the Highland fling is lane,
He lap as high as Elspa's wame,
The like was never seen
As round about the ring he whuds,
And cracks his thumb, and shakes his duds,
The meal flew frae his tale in cluds,
And blinded a' their een.
O Allister M'Allister, &c.
Neist rackle-handed smiddy Jock,
A' blacker'd o'er wi' coom and smoke,
Wi' shachlin blear-e'ed Bess did yoke—
