Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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TIT FOR TAT. |
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Poems, on sacred and other subjects | ||
187
TIT FOR TAT.
Geordie Bell cam' down yestreen,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
To tak' a dram wi' Rab M'Queen,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Guid auld peat reak, Highlan' blue,
Did sae nobly fire their mou',
That they drank till they got roarin' fou,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
To tak' a dram wi' Rab M'Queen,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Guid auld peat reak, Highlan' blue,
Did sae nobly fire their mou',
That they drank till they got roarin' fou,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Geordie's wife cam' down in haste,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Yoked on him clean barefaced,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Dang him owre, and brak' the wheel,
Bled his nose, pure luckless chiel'—
Raged and rampit like a de'il,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Yoked on him clean barefaced,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Dang him owre, and brak' the wheel,
Bled his nose, pure luckless chiel'—
Raged and rampit like a de'il,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Rab raise up to tak' his part,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Meg flew at him like a dart,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Fasten'd on him like a brier,
And to clouts his claes did tear;
Her rage o'ercam' baith love and fear,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Meg flew at him like a dart,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Fasten'd on him like a brier,
And to clouts his claes did tear;
Her rage o'ercam' baith love and fear,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
While wi' Rab she was in grips,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Quietly out puir Geordie slips,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Hame he ran, and barr'd the door,
Meg without micht rant and roar,
She's got what she gied him before,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Quietly out puir Geordie slips,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Hame he ran, and barr'd the door,
Meg without micht rant and roar,
She's got what she gied him before,
Hoch, hey, the drinkin' o't!
Poems, on sacred and other subjects | ||