by: Wright, James
Auld Bandy, he wis roupin oot,
His fairmin days wir deen,
He’d bocht a wee bit hoosie
In the toon o Aiberdeen,
So a his stock an implements,
Wir a gaun up for sale,
He’d even sell the moose-trap
An the auld slop pail.
The foreman an the second-lad,
Wir pit tae wash the cairts,
And pent them up a green an reed,
An ile up a the pairts.
The halflin pentit a the ploos,
The harras an the grubber;
The baillie cleaned up a the kye,
Wi dandy, kame an scrubber.
So, on the mornin o the roup,
A wis spic an span.
There wis a barrel fu a beer
An plenty beef an ham.
For, weel did Bandy ken the drill,
He’d deen the same himsel,
Nae a the fouk wid came tae buy
But jist tae hae their fill.
Noo a wis ready for a start,
The fairmers gaithert roon,
The auctioneer cried oot for bids,
Ye couldna hear a soun.
At length he got them in the mood,
And cried oot, ‘Noo, here Dixen,
This horse’ll dee the work o twa
An help oot in the kitchen!’
The fairmer fae the Mill o Lyne
Hid came tae buy a stot;
Fin he saw Bandy’s Bell gae by,
He set aff at the trot.
She stopped an said, ‘My little man
I’d like tae ken yer game;’
He said, ‘Noo, Bell, fine dae ye ken,
My game is aye the same.’
WeeI, nae maitter fit his game wis,
It seemed Bell liked it fine;
For noo she is the fairmer’s wife,
Doon at the Mill o Lyne.
But aft he’ll sit an mutter,
An think whiles tae himsel,
He should hae stuck the buyin stots
An nae chased Bandy’s Bell!
Of coorse, the weemin fouk wir there,
Tae hae a wee bit splash;
Nae doot, afore the nicht wis ower,
They’d buy up a the trash.
A sma bit deem fae Pittney’s,
Fair keen the dee same bidden;
Got on the dyke tae hae mair hicht,
Fell back-wyes in the midden.
The Doctor fair enjoyed himsel,
He’d drunk some muckle beer;
His wife made up a lame excuse,
She couldna staun the steer.
He waved his haun the let her ken
He’d be wi her the noo,
The next he kent, he’d gien an bocht,
Auld Bandy’s breedin soo!
Then fin the roup wis feenished
An the last chiel left the scene,
Auld Bandy hid a last look roon,
A tear drappt fae his een;
Then doon the brae he wandered,
Faur he’d played fin jist a loon,
But I’m sure his hert wis heavy,
As he set aff tae the toun.