University of Virginia Library

The Heritors defend themselves to the tune of “Judy Callaghan.”
FIRST HERITOR
And hang me if I don't
Oppose your augmentation!
My Lords, you surely won't
Condemn me to starvation.
I couldn't give a rap
To purchase immortality,
More than that fat old chap
Draws under the last locality.

Chorus of Heritors—
Uh! uh! uh!
Nae wonder we're in sic a rage—
He wants the hale o' the teind,
Parsonage and Vicarage.

SECOND HERITOR
She'd readily pay her merk
Upon ony just occasion;
But she lives ten miles frae the kirk—
An she's of another persuasion.
He ought to scrutineese
The errors that have perverted her—
An' she'll pay him whatever ye please
As soon as he has converted her.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

THIRD HERITOR
My father mortified
A field of about ten acre—
But he scarce had signed the deed
When his spirit was aff to his Maker.
Had the minister shown less greed,
I didna mean to object to it—
But now I hope to see't
Reduced ex capite lecti yet.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

FOURTH HERITOR
He says, that frae the teinds
He is but puirly pensioned;
But he's ither ways an' means,
Though he'd rather they werena mentioned.
He kens the ways o' a'
The wives in his vicinity,
An' weel can whilly-wha
A rich, auld, sour virginity.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

FIFTH HERITOR
He'll croon to ane on death,
Until her een are bleerit—
An' lecture anither on faith,
Till she's like to gang deleerit.
An' thus he mak's a spoil
O' fatuous facility,
An' works into the Will
O' dottrified senility.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

SIXTH HERITOR
Every time (an' that's ance a-year)
That his wife's in the hands o' the howdie,
He sets the hale parish asteer
For things to flavour her crowdie.
An' this ane sends jelly an' wine,
An' that ane sends puddin's an' pastries,
Till she—like a muckle swine—
Just wallows in walth an' wasteries.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

SEVENTH HERITOR
He warns us to beware,—
For if we're caught in transgression,
It's his duty to notice't in prayer,
Or bring us afore the Session;
But a turkey, or a guse,
Or some sic temporalities,
Can mak' a braw excuse
For a' our wee carnalities.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

EIGHTH HERITOR
The time he fixes for
Parochial visitation,
Is aye our dinner-hour—
An' he's sure to improve the occasion.
An' siccan a stamack he has!
You'd think he'd ne'er get to the grund o' it;
An' he tells us that flesh is grass—
Just after he's swallowed a pund o' it.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.

ALL THE HERITORS TOGETHER
Then, oh, my Lords, don't grant
The smallest augmentation!
His pleading's nought but cant,
Perversion and evasion.
Don't give a single rap
('Twere worse than prodigality)
More than that fat old chap
Draws under the last locality.

Chorus—
Uh! uh! uh! &c.