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01
'Oor Fairm Toon'
The wife's awa frae hame the nicht, so I hae
jist come roon,
Tae tell ye a the ongyangs at oor fairm toon,
We hiv a grieve, a second lad, a baillie, and a loon,
They're fine folk the fee'd folk, at oor fairm toon.
We rise up in the mornin, at oor fairm toon,
Wi hinna time for snorin, at oor fairm toon,
We trail awa until oor brose, the skirl as they gang doon,
They're nae sic thing as ham and eggs, at oor fairm toon.
Wir baillie he's a queer chiel, at oor fairm
toon,
He curses like the very deil at athing roon and roon,
He's bandy legged, he's pirren taed, in fact he's far fae
soun,
He flaps his lugs tae fleg the cra's, fae oor fairm toon.
We've things for biggin rucks upon at oor fairm
toon,
They're achteen inches aff the grun, at oor fairm toon,
Ilkae een is ere pipes fae the eesin tae the founds,
The rottans dinnae like tae bide at oor fairm toon.
We hiv a sonsie kitchie lass, at oor fairm toon,
And for a beauty she wid pass, at ony fairm toon,
She maks wir met, she cleans wir plates, her name is Bessie
Broon,
The lads they come fae far and near, tae oor fairm toon.
I dinna think I'll tell ye mair, aboot oor fairm
toon,
For I see the fairmer's sittin there, fae oor fairm toon,
And gan I bide oot late at nicht, the wife she cla's ma croon,
So that's the wey the rows begin, at oor fairm toon.
[Applause]
02
Now twa young lads belang
o this nation,
Far fae bein their destination,
Went out one night as I have told,
Jist for have a midnight stroll.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
Now on their wey wis spied a pear tree,
For pears they grew as fine as could be,
For a pair or pears we felt inclined,
So up this pear tree we did climb.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
Now up this pear tree we got landed,
Up this pear tree we got stranded,
Twas no the pears that caught wir ee,
Twas a lad and a lass lyin in alow the tree.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
Now this young man began to embrace her,
This young man began to unlace her,
He put doon his coat to save her goon,
Fan all the pears came a rummlin doon.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
Now this young man looked up in wonder,
Were belted doon the pears like thunder,
He whippit up his lass and awa did flee
And he left his coat lyin in alow the tree.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
Now the owner o the coat we did enquire,
The owner o the coat wis oor desire,
But the owner o the coat we nivver found out,
So we got a bloody fine coat for nowt.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
Now aye young lads far ere ye may be,
Never dae yer courtin in alow pear tree,
For if ye div it'll spoil yer fun,
Fan all the pears come a rummlin down.
Wi a hidum, hodum, tuma-like-a-daisy,
Tuma-like-a-daisy, wi a tum-a-lum-a-low.
[Applause]
03
I wis only a halflin when I left the skweel,
I fee'd at Hillie's tae earn ma meal,
It wis fairly a change for a laddie like me,
Tae get brose tae ma brakfast, dainner and tea.
Noo brose in the mornin is a very weel,
It disnae need cha'd, wi the milk it could sweel,
But at dainnertime, lads, I wid raither hae bree,
Than the brose tae ma brakfast, dainner and tea.
At the ploo I drew pictures o platefaes o neeps,
And winnered foo lang on the brose they wid keeps,
But at dainnertime lads I wid raither hae bree ,
Than the brose tae ma brakfast, dainner and tea.
In the lang summer day at the castin the peats,
I wis affen that hungry I could hae etten ma beets,
I nibbled at carrots, I'll nae tell a lee,
It's a lang time on brose atween yer dainner an tea.
And that wis the wey that I fell in wi Jean,
She wis kitchie at Hillie's and jist turned sixteen,
She took peety and filies, a clooty she wid gae,
As a change wi the brose for ma dainner and tea.
They say that a wife hae the hairt o a man,
Is tae feed him up jist as weel as ye can,
Mebbe Jeanie thocht that fan she said she'd agree,
Tae give brose tae ma brakfast but nae tae ma tea .
Noo some fowk have thriven and huddin and ha,
And plenty'll sweel by at bow'fae o brose,
O I dinna misdoot them, but whit aboot three,
Bowls o brose for yer breakfast, yer dainner and tea.
[Applause]
04
I traivelled this country
baith early and late,
Amon the young lassies I've hid mony a lang sit,
Crawlin hame in the mornin fan I should be at ease,
When I wis a plooboy in Arlin's fine braes.
The first thing I did fan I gaed tae yon toon,
Wis tae corn a the horses and rub them weel doon,
Sine awa tae the bothy and shift aff ma claes,
And get oot a-rovin on Arlin's fine braes.
It's mony the nicht I hae gaen tae yon toon,
It's monies the nicht I hiv watched the loon,
Sit darnin his stockins and mendin his claes,
Fin I wis a plooboy in Arlin's fine braes.
It's mony a nicht I hae sat by the fire,
Sometimes the barn, and sometimes the byre,
Chattin a the nicht wi them, fan I should be ease,
Fin I wis a-rovin in Arlin's fine braes.
I kept up tae their window and sae gently I
kneel,
The girlies fan they see me they spring tae their heel,
They spring tae their heel and they pit on their claes,
Sayin, here's the wild rover fae Arlin's fine braes.
Noo a the day lang as I gey in the yoke,
My mind is containin some roving exploit,
Expectin good prospects when I should be at ease,
Fin I wis a plooboy in Arlin's fine braes.
At met time the ministry she yokes up on me,
Says, laddie ye'd be better gan ye'd let them a be,
Ye'll mind on my words when ye come tae auld age,
Ye'll nae aye be plooboy on Arlin's fine braes.
It's monies a nicht a fair maid I've left ower
tae sigh,
It's monies a lassie I've said goodbye,
I'll awa tae ma bed and lie doon at my ease,
Sic yon hard hairted plooboys left Arlin's fine braes.
So come a ye rovin plooboys tik a warnin fae
me,
Nivver follow young weemin fariver ye may be,
For they will entise ye fan they pit on fine claes,
And set ye a-rovin on Arlin's fine braes.
[Applause]
05
This is my bothy, 'Lonely
at Nicht in the Bothy'.
O as I gaed hame tae Airdae, well the fairmer'd
nae a clue,
There's nae wey he could pack a cairt or nae wey he could
ploo,
So I got a the work tae dae, it suited me jist fine,
An I bade in that little timmer bothy.
Noo the caul wins they bla aneth my timmer bothy
door,
The moosies they jink in an oot the knotholes in the floor,
But that's nae the worst o bein here, those discomforts I
can thole,
But it's lonely at nicht in the bothy.
Noo I've sorted mony fancy bulls and put them
doon tae Perth,
I ken that I'm the best showman that ever walked the earth,
But when a' the judgins over an the trophies a been won,
It's back tae ma little timmer bothy.
Noo the caul wins they bla aneth my timmer bothy
door,
The moosies they jink in an oot the knotholes in the floor,
But that's nae the worst o bein here, those comforts I can
thole,
For it's lonely at nicht in the bothy.
Noo I'm nae a mairried man, so I'm aye on the
loose,
Ye'll find me nearly every nicht in Walter's public hoose,
But ye canna blame a man for takin comfort far he can,
For it's lonely at nicht in the bothy.
O the caul wins they bla aneth my timmer bothy
door,
The moosies they jink in an oot the knotholes in the floor,
But that's nae the worst o bein here, those comforts I can
thole,
But it's lonely at nicht in the bothy,
Aye, it's lonely at nicht in the bothy.
[Applause]
06
I've travelled the world,
I've heard people say,
Oh funny how life, it slips away,
But now I've come back to this village to stay,
The village where I went to school.
I sit in the class on a winter's morn,
Sometimes I wish I'd never been born,
In old clothes that are tattered and torn,
In the village where I went to school.
(forgets words)
I'll sing it again onywey.
I sit in the class on a winter's morn,
Sometimes I wish I'd never been born,
In tired clothes that are tattered and torn,
In the village where I went to school.
O where are they now, someone went over the
sea,
Odd ones came back to the village, like me,
There's a smell of bread from the baker's shop,
A story where we bought our pop,
And the coalman's horse goes clippity-clop,
Through the village where I went to school.
There's many treasured memories,
Like the time when all the school caught fleas,
The orchard where we climbed those trees,
In the village where I went to school.
Like the old village stream, the water goes
on,
Some folks have stayed and others have gone,
I looked around and I found me a wife,
I've had my share of trouble and strife,
But now I know where I'll stay for my life,
In the village where I went to school.
[Applause]
07
Noo a ma life I've aye been
thocht a backward kinda chiel,
For I wis nivver kent tae bla for I wis nivver feel,
But when I met Eliza Broun, I took for a walk,
Wi baith walked on in silence for we nivver tried tae talk.
But when we got back tae her door, gey bold
I must hae been,
For I squeezed her umbrella tops, sine she said I wis green,
Her mither keekin through lock hid fa'n and shouted fright!
Eliza skelped me on the lug, the muckle gackit gype!
So I canna thole the weemin folk, they're far
ower cute for me,
Sometimes I think that a ma days a bachelor I'll be,
But I jist crack anither spunk, and when I licht ma pipe,
It's soothin consolation tae a muckle gackit gype.
Noo ae doon upon the sands, I thocht I'd hae
a dook,
So I took off ma beets and claes and tried to be a deuk,
Fan I come oot gey shivery, losh, I felt all forlorn,
For deil the sign o ony claes were left at I had worn.
The only thing upon the sands wis jist a lassie's
shawl,
So I dressed up masel in it, but I wis affa caul,
Sin takin a the back roads hame, fan Liza ower the dyke,
Here's ye claes wi compliments, ye muckle gackit gype.
So I canna thole the weemin folk, they're far
ower cute for me,
Sometimes I think that a ma days a bachelor I'll be,
But I jist crack anither spunk, and when I licht ma pipe,
It's soothin consolation tae a muckle gackit gype.
Well ae day on my holidays, and waitin for the
train,
A bonnie lassie ran tae me, dear sir it's plain,
Ye are a homely sort o chiel, will you be good and kind,
Just hold my baby till I see if I my husband find.
She shoved it in ma oxter, seen she turned and
run awa,
The train came in and I wis left still waitin for it's da,
Twas then I found twis just a doll, she'd daen't me watch
tae swipe,
As weel's ma cash, so I felt like a muckle gackit gype.
So I canna thole the weemin folk, they're far
ower cute for me,
Sometimes I think that a ma days a bachelor I'll be,
But I jist crack anither spunk, and when I licht ma pipe,
It's soothin consolation tae a muckle gawkit gype.
[Applause]
08
For ma bothy ballad, I'm
gan tae sing 'The Traivellin Mill', by Ian Middleton (again).
A week afore the mull wis due, the mannie gaed
his roonds,
Tae organise a squaddie fae the neighbourin fairm toons,
At chauvin time and hairst time there wis aye a fair bit hash,
But the croonin culmination came the day wi hid a thrash
The mull came hame the nicht afore it twis mair
ne'er affen late,
And we plowtered in the gloamin, gettin't level't aff and
set,
But the mill lads powkin here and there got athing sorted
oot,
For a stairt the followin mornin when the men came in aboot.
Fan eens we got her yokit, twas a satisfyin
soun,
On a quiet day the hummin o't, wis heard for miles aroon,
Especially fan an antrin shafe gaed doon the makin knot,
And she rifted oot a voomph, as it gaed rumblin ower her throat.
The men fen gaithered in aboot made fourteen
o a crew,
And we're puttin on tae handle grain tae fork or big a soo,
Ae mill lad did the feedin as the t'other gaed aroon,
Skitin ile on a the furlin bits tae keep her queelt doon.
The forkers work wis tirin, be it shaves or
be it strae,
But it wisnae near as bad as humphin barley bags a day,
Half quarter bags were a designed for little else but graft,
And they left ye shakky leggit ere ye humphed them tae the
laft.
The laftie stairs aboot a toon, had aye a naisty
knack,
They were akward tae negotiate wi onything on yer back,
They were nairra files and neukit, but be far the biggest
fla,
Wis the one in fower gradient that wis common tae them a'.
Fan we'd lowsed and got wir dainner by, the
men fae ither toons,
For critical comparison set aff upon their roonds,
They hakit, they rakit there, gaed this and that a powk,
For there's aye great fascination wi the gear o ither fowk.
Wi athin weel taen thro hand, we adjourned tae
the barn,
Tae tak the weicht fae aff wir legs and swapped the latest
yarn,
But we hidnae lang til lichter, for the mull resumed at een,
So we sprollached up and racksed wirsel's tae stairt the aifterneen.
Twa wimmen at the lowsin kept the feeder weel
supplied,
And a steady stour o grain wis bein bagget aff and weighed,
But the mannie in attendance, wi a speculative ee,
Wis girnin aboot quality as weel's the quantity.
Fan the rucks wir by the easin vermin stairted
spewin oot,
But they jinket oot a sicht again, wi bairns in hait pursuit,
Little kennin that their hidey-holey widnae laist for lang,
For there's nae a lot o shelter fen ye stairt the hindmost
gang.
Fen she'd feenished and got roaded, and the
men hid worn awa,
An eerie kinda silence seemed tae settle ower a',
For the cornyard wis knakit and the foonds a strippit clean,
Jist a strae soo and a heap o caff to show she'd ivver been.
The traivellin mullie's lang defunct, she's
fairly oot a grace,
And ye'll seldom see a gaitherin noo o fowk aboot a place,
For the modren mull's a combine, wi a steerin wheel and gears,
But there's files I thinks I hears her yet, a ghost o bygone
years
[Applause]
09
I'm not going to sing a bothy
ballad, I'm going to sing a Scots song, called
'Bonnie Dundee'
Tae the lords o convention twis Claverhouse
spoke,
E'er the Kings crown go down, there are crowns to be broke,
So each cavalier who loves honour and me,
Let them follow the bonnets o' bonnie Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses and call out my men.
Unhook the west port and let us gae free,
For it's up wi the bonnets o bonnie Dundee!
Dundee he is mounted, and rides doon the street,
The bells they ring backwards, the drums they are beat,
But the Provost, (douce man!), says ;Just let it be
For the toon is well rid of that de'il o Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses and call out my men.
Unhook the west port and let us gae free,
For it's up wi the bonnets o bonnie Dundee!
There are hills beyond Pentland and lands beyond
Forth,
Be there Lords in the south, there are chiefs in the north!
There are brave Duniewassals, three thousand times three,
Cry "Hoy!" for the bonnets o bonnie Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses and call out my men.
Unhook the west port and let us gae free,
For it's up wi the bonnets o bonnie Dundee!
So awa tae the hills, tae the lea, and the rocks
E'er I own a usurper, I'll couch wi the fox!
So tremble, false Whigs, in the midst o your glee
For ye've no seen the last o my bonnets and me.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle my horses and call out my men.
Unhook the west port and let us gae free,
For it's up wi the bonnets o bonnie Dundee!
[Applause]
11
I winner fit I wis gan tae sing, but I'll hae mak up ma mind
up noo eh! I'll sing, eh, what, 'Nicky Tams'
Oh fan I wis only ten year auld I left the pairish
skweel,
Ma faither fee'd me tae the Mains to cha his milk and meal.
I first pit on ma nether breeks ti hap ma spinnle trams,
An bucklt roon ma knappin knees a pair o nicky tams.
First I gaed on for baillie loon an syne I gaed
on for third,
An syne of course I hid to get the horseman's grip and word.
A loaf o breid tae be ma piece, a bottle for drinking drams,
And ye canna ging through the cauf-hoose door athoot yer nicky
tams.
Noo the fairmer that I'm wi aye noo, he's wealthy
but he's mean,
Though corn's cheap his horse is thin, his harnesss nearly
deen.
He gars us load wir cairts ower fu, his conscience his nae
qualms,
Fan breist-straps brak, there's naething like a pair o' nicky
tams.
Noo I'm coortin' bonnie Annie noo, Rob Tamson's
kitchie deem,
She is five-an'-forty and I am seventeen.
She clorts a muckle piece tae me wi' different kinds o jams,
An' tells me ilkae nicht that she admires ma nicky tams.
Noo ae Sunday mornin I got riggit oot, the kirk
for to gang,
Ma collar it wis unco ticht, ma breeks were neen owre lang;
I hid ma Bible in ma pooch, likewise ma buik o Psalms,
Fan Annie roars, "Ye muckle gype, tak aff yer nicky tams!"
So unco sweir, I took them aff, the lassie for
to please,
But aye ma breeks they lurkit up aroon aboot ma knees.
A wasp gaed crawlin up ma leg in the middle o the Psalms,
Oh nivver again will I rig the kirk athoot ma nicky tams.
Noo I've aften thocht I'd like to be a bobbie
on the Force,
Or maybe I'll get on the cars tae drive a pair o horse,
Whatever it's ma luck tae be, the bobbies or on the cars,
I'll never forget the happy days I wore ma nicky tams.
[Applause]
12
I'll sing the Dundee Weaver
for this een.
'The Dundee Weaver'
Oh I am a Dundee weaver and I come fae bonnie
Dundee,
I'll tell o a Glesgae lad that come a courtin me,
He talk me for a walk ae nicht, doon by the Kelvinhall,
It's there the dirty wee rascal stole, ma thingummy-jig awa.
Noo I'll gae hame tae Glaesga toon for I am
young and fair,
And I'll put on ma buckled sheen and comb ma curly hair,
And I'll put on ma stays sae ticht and mak ma figure look
sma,
And far would ken by rosie cheeks, ma thingummy jig's awa.
No come a ye Dundee weaver quines, come on and
listen tae me,
Oh never let a Glaesga lad an inch abeen yer knee,
Cause if he gets ye doon a close or up against a wa,
Cause if he dis, ye can safely say, yer thingummy jig's awa.
[Applause]
I missed oot a verse! [Laughs.]
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