Rob Macgregor.
[Written by D. Thomson of Galashiels.—Air, "Donald Caird."]
Rob Macgregor's come again,
Ilka ane thought dead and gane;
By a wizard's cantrip slight,
Rob again has seen the light.
He appears in a' his glory,
Laughing baith at Whig and Tory;
Rob's a chief o' some regard,
No a scamp like Donald Caird.
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Think ye does the shirra ken,
Rob Macgregor's back again.
Bars o' iron and bolts o' steel
Yield to Rob, for Rob's a deil;
Glasgow jail it canna haud him,
No a beagle dares to daud him.
Rob has keys to ilka prison,
Turnkey cousins by the dozen;
Borough bailies and their guard
Shrink afore the Highland laird.
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Lawland bodies pay your kain,
Rob Macgregor's come again.
Robin's wife's a wife o' mettle,
Weel she guards auld Scotland's kettle;
Nought to Helen is a prize
Like an imp of the excise!
A' the Highland hills in chorus,
Sing the dirge of ganger Morris,
A' the pack might weel be spared,
Reavers waur than Donald Caird.
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Lomonds wild are a' his ain,
We're fain to see him back again.
Rob Macgregor dealt in cattle,
But to pay them was a battle;
Robin took a shorter plan,
Clear'd the marches like a man.
Now he's king o' hill and dale,
A' the Lennox pays black mail.
Soger lads be on your guard,
Ye are na catching Donald Caird.
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Rob Macgregor's come again!
We'll get back the days that's gane,
Rob Macgregor's come again!
Robin Roy's caught at last,
Bring the wuddie, haud him fast;
Robin loups and takes the liver,
Lost for ance, and lost for ever;
Jouking up and jouking down,
Like an otter swam the loon!
Rob has baffled a' the guard,
No sneaked aff like Donald Caird.
Rob Macgregor's aff again!
Rob Macgregor's aff again!
Highland blood, and Highland bane!
Rob Macgregor's ne'er been ta'en!
Bauldy Baird.
[Air, "Donald Caird."]
Bauldy Baird's come again,
Bauldy Baird's come again,
Tell the news through brugh and glen,
Bauldy Baird's come back again!
O Bauldy Baird can buy and sell
Barrels o' herring, and lades o' meal,
Cheat till the guidman be poor,
And pouch till the guidwife look sour;
Laugh and clatter, curse and ban,
Tell a lee wi' ony man.
Tell the news to a' you ken,
That Bauldy Baird's come again.
Bauldy Baird can drink, I trow,
Till a' the bodies roun' be fou;
Ilka ane that shares his bicker,
Kens how Bauldy pays his liquor.
When your fou, he's on the catch:
He'll buy your blankets, corn, or watch.
Ye sharpers a', though London-rear'd,
Are a' but cuifs to Bauldy Baird.
Bauldy Baird can brag o' gambling,
Kens the airts o' dark dissembling.
Bauldy Baird can mak' a fen,
