Neil Gow's Fareweel (1821, Glasgow)/Neil Gow's Fareweel
NEIL GOW’S FAREWELL.
You’ve surely heard o’ famous Neil,
The man that play’d the fiddle weel,
I wat he was a canty chiel,
And dearly loo’d the whisky, O.
And ay since he wore tartan hose,
He dearly loo’d the Athol brose;
And wae was he, you may suppose,
To play fareweel to whisky, O.
Alake, quoth Neil, I’m frail and auld,
And find my bluid grows unco cauld;
I think ‘twad mak me blythe and bauld,
A wee drap Highland whisky, O.
And yet the doctors a’ agree
That whisky’s no the drink for me;
Saul! quoth Neil, ’twill spoil my glee,
Shou’d they part me and whisky, O.
Tho’ I can get baith wine and ale,
And find my head and fingers hale,
I’ll be content, tho’ legs shou’d fail.
To play fareweel to whisky, O.
But still I think on auld langsyne,
When Paradise our friends did tyne,
Because something ran in their min’,
Forbid, like Highland whisky, O.
Come a‘ ye pow‘rs o‘ Music, come!
I find my heart grows unco glum,
My fiddle strings will no play bum,
To say fareweel to whisky, O.
I‘ll take my fiddle in my hand,
And screw the strings up while they’ll stand,
To mak a lamentation grand.
On gude auld Highland whisky, O.