Dear meal (1816-1831)/Calder fair

CALDER FAIR.

As I came in by Calder fair,
and yont the lappard lee man,
There was braw kissing there,
come but and kiss wi me man;
There was highland folk and laland folk,
unco folk and kend folk,
Folk aboon folk i‘ the yard;
Ther's nae folk like our ain folk,

Hech hey Bessy Bell,
kilt your coat Maggy,
Yese get a new gown
down the burn davie.

The earl of Mars bonny thing,
and muckle ⟨booket wallit⟩;
Play the same tune o'er again,
and down the burn for a that

Gin ye had been whare I hae been,
ye wadna been sae wantin;
I got the lang girdin o't
an' fell thro the gantrin.
O'er the hills and far away,
my bonny winsome Willie,
Whare shall our goodman lie?
the gleed earl of Kelly.

Todle but and todle ben,
hey Tam Brandy,
Crack a louse on Maggys wame,
little Cocky Bendy
Theres three sheeps skins,
the barber an his bason.
The bonny lass o Paties Mill;
wi the free an accepted mason.

On Etterick banks ae summer night,
the clifty rocks to view man;
Katrine Ogie gat a fright,
⟨'mang⟩ Scotlands bells sae blue man.
O wally wally up yon wood,
and down by bonny yarrow,
The lassie lost her ⟨shood⟩
wi Will her winsome marrow.

Stately stapt he east the wa,
the lad I darena name man;
Geordy reigns in Charlies hay
send Lewie Gordon hame man;
In winter when the rain rain'd cauld;
Willie brew'd a peck o ⟨maut⟩ man;
John Anderson yer'e growing auld,
pit a sheeps head i' the pat man.

The tailor cam to clout the claise,
upon a lammas night man,
Which caus'd the battle o'the flaes,
and shaw'd M'Craw great might man;
John Tamson at the key-hole keeks,
my Wifes a wanton pauky,
Shes clouting Johnnys grey brecks,
and Bess shes but a gauky.

In Fife there liv'd a wicked wife,
And she has taen the gee man,
The ⟨door⟩ barring caus'd the strife,
and Sandy o'er the lee man;
Tarry woo frae Tweedside came,
nae Aberdeen cauld kail man,
Made gude Scotch brose to fill our wame
could Donald M'Donald fail man.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
sae merrys we hae been man;
Yet still on menni s charms I doat,
at Polwart on the green man;
Willie was a wanton wag,
and push'd about the jorum,
While Rob the Ranter burst his bag,
playing the Reel of Tullochgorum.

FINIS.

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P. Buchan, Printer, Peterhead.