There dwalt a man.
["I owe whatever is curious and humorous of this ancient song to the kindness of Sir Walter Scott, from whose recitation I wrote it. Whatever is new and dull must be attributed to me, since I ventured to alter the last lines of the second verse, and to add the third."—Allan Cunningham.]
There dwalt a man into the west,
And O gin he was cruel,
For on his bridal night at e'en
He gat up and grat for gruel.
They brought to him a gude sheep head,
A napkin and a towel:
Gar tak' thae whim-whams fer frae me,
And bring to me my gruel.
But there's nae meal in a' the house,
What will we do, my jewel?
Get up the powk and shake it out,
I winna want my gruel.
But there's nae milk in a' the house,
Nor yet a spunk o' fuel:
Gae warm it in the light o' the moon,
I winna want my gruel.
O lake-a-day for my first wife,
Wha was baith white and rosie,
She cheer'd me aye at e'ening fa'
Wi' something warm and cozie:
Farewell to pleasant draps o' drink,
To butter brose and gruel;
And farewell to my first sweet wife,
My cannie Nancy Newell.