3
He shook his doublet in the wund,
His feet like hammers strack the grund,
The very moudiwarts were stunn'd,
Nor kend what it could mean.
O Allister McAllister, &c.
Now wanton Willie was nae blate,
For he got haud o' winsome Kate,
Come here quo' he I'll shew the gate
To dance the Highland fling.
The Highland fling he danc'd wi' glee,
And lap as he were gaun to flee
Kate bak'd and babb'd sae bonnilie,
And tript it neat and clean.
O Allister M'Allister,&c.
Now Allister has done his best,
And weary houghs are wantin rest,
Besides they sair wi' drouth were strest,
Wi' dancing sae, I ween,
I true the gantrees gat a lift,
And round the bicker flew like drift,
And Allister that very night
Could scarcely stand his lane.
O Allister McAllister,
Your chanter sets us a' astir,
Then to your bags and blaw wi' bir,
We'll dance the highland fling.
