Tune—“Clout the Cauldron.”
My bonie lass, I work in brass,
A tinkler is my station:
I’ve travell’d round all Christian ground
In this my occupation;
I’ve taen the gold, an’ been enrolled
In many a noble squadron;
But vain they search’d when off I march’d
To go an’ clout the cauldron.
I’ve taen the gold, &c.
Despise that shrimp, that wither’d imp,
With a’ his noise an’ cap’rin;
An’ take a share with those that bear
The budget and the apron!
And by that stowp! my faith an’ houp,
And by that dear Kilbaigie,^1
If e’er ye want, or meet wi’ scant,
May I ne’er weet my craigie.
And by that stowp, &c.
[Footnote 1: A peculiar sort of whisky so called,
a great favorite with Poosie Nansie’s clubs.—R.B.]