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Elphinstone Kist   Maakers, Education, History

Tullochgoram     by: Skinner, Rev. John

1721-1807

“Come, gie’s a sang,” Montgomery cried!
“And lay your disputes all aside,
What signifies’t for folks to chide
For what was done before them:
Let Whig and Tory all agree,
Whig and Tory, Whig and Tory,
Whig and Tory all agree
To drop their Whig-meg-morum;
Let Whig and Tory all agree
To spend the night wi’ mirth and glee
And cheerful sing along wi’ me
The Reel o’ Tullochgorum.

“O! Tullochgorum’s my delight,
It gars us a’ in ane unite,
And ony sumph that keeps up spite,
In conscience I abhor him:
For blythe and cheerie, we’ll be a’,
Blythe and cheerie, blythe and cheerie,
Blythe and cheerie we’ll be a’,
And make a happy quorum:
For blythe and cheerie we’ll be a’
As lang as we hae breath to draw,
And dance till we be like to fa’
The Reel o’ Tullochgorum.

What needs there be sae great a fraise,
Wi’ dringing, dull Italian lays,
I wadna gie our ain Strathspeys
For half a hunder score o’ them;
They’re dowf and dowie at the best,
Dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie,
Dowf and dowie at the best,
Wi’ a’ their variorum;
They’re dowf and dowie at the best,
Their allegros and a’ the rest,
They canna please a Scottish taste
Compar’d wi’ Tullochgorum.




“Let wardly worms their minds oppress
Wi’ fears o’ want and double cess,
And sullen sots themsells distress
Wi’ keeping up decorum;
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,
Sour and sulky shall we sit
Like old Philosophorum!
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Wi’ neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
Nor ever try to shak’ a fit
To th’ Reel o Tullochgorum?

“May choicest blessings ay attend
Each honest, open-hearted friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,
And a’ that’s good watch o’er him;
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
Peace and plenty be his lot,
And dainties a great store o’ them;
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain’d by any vicious spot,
And may he never want a groat,
That’s fond of Tullochgorum!

“But for the sullen, frumpish fool,
That loves to be oppression’s tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,
And discontent devour him;
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow,
Dool and sorrow be his chance,
And nane say, Wae’s me for him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance
Wi’ a’ the ills that come frae France,
Wha e’er he be that winna dance
The Reel o' Tullochgorum.



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