Nicol Jarvie's Journey.
[As sung by Mr. Mackay, in the Opera of "Rob Roy."—Air, "Quaker's Wife."]
You may sing o' your Wallace and brag o' your Bruce,
And talk o' your fechtin' Red Reiver,
But whare will ye find me a man o' sic use,
As a thorough-bred Saut Market Weaver?
Let ante Nicol Jarvie come under your view,
At hame whare the people adore me,
Whare they made me a baillie and councillor too,
Like my faither, the Deacon, before me.
These claverin' chiels in the elachan hard bye,
They'll no gi'e a body but hard words,
My faith! they shall find if again they will try,
A het poker's as guid as their braid swords;
It's as weel though to let that flee stick to the wa',
For mayhap they may chance to claymore me,
To let sleepin' dogs lie is the best thing ava,
Said my faither, the Deacon, before me.
Wy puir cousin Rab, O! his terrible wife
Was sae proud, that she chose to disown me,
Fient a bodle cared she for a magistrate's life,
My conscience! she was just gaun to drown me!
But if ever again in her clutches I pop,
Puir Matty may live to deplore me,
But were I in Glasgow, I'd stick to my shop,
Like my faither, the Deacon before me.
Now to think o' them hangin' a bailie so high,
To be picked at by corbies and burdies!
But if I were at Glasgow, my conscience! I'll try
To let their craigs feel the weight o' their hurdies.
But stop, Nicol! stop man! na, that canna be,
For if ane wad to hame safe restore ye,
In the Saut Market safe, I'd forget and forgie—
Like my faither, the Deacon before me.