Yes: one above all has beheld our devotion;
Our valour and faith are not hid from his ken;
The day is abiding of stern retribution
On all the proud foes of old Callum-a-Glen.
John Tod.
He's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod,
He's a terrible man, John Tod;
He scolds in the house, he scolds at the door,
He scolds in the very hie road, John Tod,
He scolds in the very hie road.
The weans a' fear John Tod, John Tod,
The weans a' fear John Tod;
When he's passing by, the mothers will cry,
Here's an ill wean, John Tod, John Tod,
Here's an ill wean, John Tod.
The callants a' fear John Tod, John Tod,
The callants a' fear John Tod;
If they steal but a neep, the laddie he'll whip,
And it's unco weel done o' John Tod, John Tod,
And it's unco weel done o' John Tod.
And saw ye nae little John Tod, John Tod?
O saw ye nae little John Tod?
His shoon they were re'in, and his feet they were seen,
But stout does he gang on the road, John Tod,
But stout does he gang on the road.
How is he fendin', John Tod, John Tod?
How is he fendin', John Tod?
He is scourin' the land wi' a rung in his hand,
And the French wadna frighten John Tod, John Tod,
And the French wadna frighten John Tod.
Ye're sun-burnt and batter'd, John Tod, John Tod,
Ye're tautit and tatter'd, John Tod;
Wi' your auld strippit cowl ye look maist like a fule;
But there's nouse in the linin', John Tod, John Tod,
But there's nouse in the linin', John Tod.
He's weel respeckit, John Tod, John Tod,
He's weel respeckit, John Tod;
Though a terrible man, we'd a' gang wrang,
If he should leave us, John Tod, John Tod,
If he should leave us, John Tod.
John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e heard tell o' John Maut, John Maut,
Ye'll a' ha'e heard tell o' John Maut;
He's been sae to blame, that he's got a bad name,
But, faith! he's far waur than he's ca't, John Maut.
His doublet is raggit, John Maut, John Maut,
His doublet is raggit, John Maut,
His hat's down in the crown, he has awfu' like shoon,
And his stockings are waefully gau't, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
He swears like a trooper, John Maut, John Maut,
He swears like a trooper, John Maut;
He ne'er sticks at a lee, and he'll fecht wi' a flee,
Tho' nane but himsel's in the faut, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
He's whiles in the skies, John Maut, John Maut,
He's whiles in the skies, John Maut;
But down in the mud, he plays clash wi' a thud,
And his claes ye might clean wi' a claut, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
The weans they get fun wi' John Maut, John Maut,
The weans they get fun wi' John Maut,
They hoot and they cry as they see him gang by,
But whiles though he lends them a claut, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
The lasses a' lo'e John Maut, John Maut,
The lasses a' lo'e John Maut;
They swear it's no true, but they get themsels fou,
And then they sairly misca't, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
The wives are fond o' John Maut, John Maut,
The wives are a' fond o' John Maut;
They say he is gran', they ne'er mind their guidman,
But they coax, and they cuddle, and daut, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
Sae I redd ye tak' tent o' John Maut, John Maut,
I redd ye tak' tent o' John Maut;
He's no weel to ha'e for a friend or a fae,
Sae I redd ye keep out o' his claut, John Maut.
Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.
