Tune your Fiddles.
[Written by the Rev. John Skinner, author of "Tullochgorum," &c., to suit an air composed by William Marshall, butler to the duke of Gordon, and called "The Marquis of Huntly's Reel." Marshall was a distinguished composer of Scottish airs and melodies, and also eminent as a player on the violin. A collection of his tunes, consisting of 176, was published in 1822, which was followed by a supplement containing 74 additional tunes. Every one is familiar with his "Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey," to which Burns's "Of a' the airts the wind can blaw" is sung. Marshall was a native of Fochabers, and died so recently as 1633, aged 85.]
Tune your fiddles, tune them sweetly,
Play the marquis' reel discreetly,
Here we are a band completely
Fitted to be jolly.
Come, my boys, blythe and gawcie,
Every youngster choose his lassie,
Dance wi' life and be not saucy,
Shy nor melancholy.
Come, my boys, &c.
Lay aside your sour grimaces,
Clouded brows and drumlie faces,
Look about and see their Graces,
How they smile delighted:
Now's the season to be merry,
Hang the thoughts of Charon's ferry,
Time enough to come camsterry,
When we're auld and doited.
Now's the season, &c.
Butler, put about the claret,
Through is a' divide and share it,
Gordon Castle weel can spare it,
It has claret plenty:
Wine's the true inspiring liquor,
Draffy drink may please the vicar,
When be grasps the foaming bicker,
Vicars are not dainty.
Wine's the true inspiring liquor, &c.
We'll extol our noble master,
Sprung from many a brave ancestor,—
Heaven preserve him from disaster,
So we pray in duty.
Prosper, too, our pretty duchess,
Safe from all distressful touches,
Keep her out of Pluto's clutches,
Long in health and beauty.
Prosper, too, our pretty duchess, &c.
Angels guard their gallant boy,
Make him long his father's joy,
Sturdy, like the heir of Troy,
Stout and brisk and healthy.
Pallas grant him every blessing,
Wit and strength, and size encreasing,
Plutus, what's in thy possessing,
Make him rich and wealthy.
Pallas grant him every blessing, &c.
Youth, solace him with thy pleasure,
In refined and worthy measure:
Merit gain him choicest treasure,
From the Royal donor:
Famous may he be in story,
Full of days and full of glory;
To the grave, when old and hoary,
May he go with honour!
Famous may he be in story, &c.
Gordons, join our hearty praises,
Honest, though in homely phrases,
Love our cheerful spirit raises,
Lofty as the lark is:
Echo, waft our wishes daily,
Through the grove and through the alley
Sound o'er every hill and valley,
Blessings on our Marquis.
Echo, waft our wishes, &c.