The Jolly Beggar
There wis a jolly beggar man, and he wis dressed in green,
And he wis seekin’ lodgins in a hoose in Aiberdeen.
And I’ll gang nae mair a’rovin’,
A—rovin’ in the nicht.
I’ll gang nae mair a’rovin’,
Though the moon shine ne’er sae bricht
This beggar widna lie in barn nor yet wid he in byre,
Bit he wid lie in tae the ha’ or by the kitchen fire.
This beggar he has made his bed wi’ guid clean strae an’ hay,
An’ in ahint the kitchen fire the jolly beggar lay.
Up rase the guidman’s dochter, tae bar the kitchen door,
An’ there she spied the beggar man; stannin’ nakit on the floor.
He’s ta’en the lassie in his airms an’ tae the bed he ran:
‘Oh hooly, hooly wi’ me, sir; ye’ll waken oor guidman.’
The beggar was a cunnin’ loon an’ ne’er a word he spak
Until he’d got his jobbie done, then he began tae crack.
‘Hae ye ony dogs in till the hoose, or ony cats ava?
For I’m feart they’ll rive ma mealie pokes afore I gang awa’.’
The lassie’s ta’en his mealie pokes an’ thrown them ower the wa’—
‘The deil gang wi’ yer mealie pokes—ma maidenhead’s awa’!’
He’s pulled a horn frae aff his side and blawn baith loud an’ shrill,
An’ five an’ twenty belted knichts cam’ ridin’ ower the hill.
He’s ta’en a pen knife frae his pooch, let a’s auld duddies fa’,
An’ he wis the brawest belted knicht that wis amang them a’.
‘If ye hid been a decent lass, as I thocht ye tae be,
I’d hae made ye the queen ower a’ this hale country.’