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the BLYTHESOME BRIDAL
the BLYTHESOME BRIDAL
And there will be Sandy the sutor.
And Will wi' the meikle mou',
And there will be Tam the blutter,
Wi' Andrew the tinkler, I trow:
And there will be bow'd-legged Robie,
Wi' thum'less Katie's gudeman;
And there will be blue-cheeked Dobie,
And Lowrie the laird o' the Ian',
And there will be sow-libber Patie,
And plucky-fac'd Wat i' the mill,
Capper-nos'd Francie, and Gibbie
That wins in the howe o' the hill;
And there will be Alaster Sibbie,
Wha in wi' black Bessy did mooI,
Wi' snivelling Lilly, and Tibbie,
The lass that stands aft on the stool.
And Madge that was buckled to Steenie,
And coft him grey breeks to his a--,
Wha after was hangit for stealing,
Great mercy it happen'd nae warse.
And there will be gleed Geordy Janners,
And Kirsh wi' the lily-white leg,
Wha gade the south for manners,
and play'd the fool in Mons-Meg.
And there will be Judan Maclawrie,
And blinkin daft Barbara Macleg,
Wi' flea-lugged sharny-fac'd Lawrie,
And shangy-mou'd halucket Meg;
And there will be happer-a--'d Nancy,
And fairy-fac'd Flowrie by name;
Muck Maddie, and fat-hipped Girsy,
The lass wi' the gowden wame.
And there will be girn-again Gibby,
Wi' his glaikit wife Jeany Bell,
And mizzled-shinn'd Mungo Macapie,
The lad that was skipper himsel.
There lads and lasses in pearlings,
Will feast in the heart o' the ha',
On sybows, and rifarts, and cartings,
That are baith sodden and raw.
And there will be fadges and brochan,
Wi' fouth o' good gabbocks o' skate;
Powsowdie, and drammock, and crowdie,
And cauler nowt feet in a plate.
And there will be partans and buckies,
And whitens and speldings enew,
Wi' singit sheep-heads and a haggis,
And scadlips to sup till ye spew.
And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbucks.
And sowens, and farls, and baps,
Wi' swats and weel-scraped painches,
And brandy in stoups and in caups;
And there will be meal-kail and porrage,
Wi' skink to sup till ye rive,
And roasts to roast on a brander,
O' fleuks that were taken alive.
Scrap'd haddocks, wilks, dulse and tangle.
And a mill o' gude snishin to prie;
When weary wi' eating and drinking,
We'll rise up and dance till we die.
Then fy let us a' to the bridal,
For there will be lilting there,
For Jock's to be married to Maggie.
The lass wi' the gowden hair.
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