No to be married ava,
No to be married ava;
Oh, is it not awfu' to think,
I may not be married ava!
For ilka young lass that can brag
Of her ha'eing a lover or twa,
Will haud out her finger and say,
That body has got nane ava.
And then when they a' get married,
Their husbands will let them gang braw,
While they laugh at auld maids like mysell,
For no getting ony ava.
No to be married, &c.
Some wives that are wasters o' men,
Wear dune naething less than their twa;
But this I wad haud as a crime,
That ought to be punished by law.
For are they no muckle to blame,
When thus to themsells they tak' a'?
Ne'er thinking o' mony an auld maid,
That's no to be married ava.
No to be married, &c.
But as for the men that get wives—
E'en though it were some ayont twa,
I think they should aye be respeckit
For helping sae mony awa'.
But as for the auld bach'lor bodies,
Their necks every ane I could thraw,
For what is the use of their lives,
Gin no to be married ava?
No to be married, &c.
Oh, gin I could get but a husband,
E'en though he were never sae sma',
Just gi'e me a husband, I'll tak' him,
Though scarce like a mannie ava.
Come soutor, come tailor, come tinkler,
Oh come ony ane o' ye a'!
Come gi'e me a bode e'er sae little,
I'll tak' it and never sae na'.
No to be married, &c.
Come deaf, or come dumb, or come cripple,
Wi' ae leg, or nae legs ava,
Or come ye wi' ae e'e, or nae e'e,
I'll tak' ye as ready's wi' twa.
Come young, or come auld, or come doited,
Oh come and just tak' me awa';
Far better be married to something,
Than no to be married ava.
No to be married. &c.
Now, lads, if there's ony amang ye,
Wad like just upon me to ca',
Ye'll find me no ill to be courted,
For shyness I ha'e thrown't awa'.
And if ye should want a bit wifie,
Ye ken to what quarter to draw;
And e'en should we no mak' a bargain,
Ye'll at least get a kissie or twa.
No to be married, &c.
Donald Macdonald.
[This was one of the earliest songs which James Hogg composed. It was written about the year 1803, to the tune of "Woo'd and married and a'," and was long very popular. "I once heard the song," says the author, "sung in the theatre at Lancaster, when the singer substituted the following lines of his own for the last verse:—
'For Jock Bull he is good in a hurry,
An' Sawney is steel to the bane,
An' wee David Welsh is a widdy,
An' Paddy will hurkle to nane;
They'll a' prove baith sturdy and loyal,
Come dangers around them what may,
An' I, their gude-brither, Macdonald,
Shall ne'er be the last in the fray!' &c.
It took exceedingly well, and was three times encored, and there was I sitting in the gallery, applauding as much as any body. My vanity prompted me to tell a jolly Yorkshire manufacturer that night that I was the author of the song. He laughed excessively at my assumption, and told the landlady that he took me for a half-crazed Scots pedlar."]
My name it is Donald Macdonald—
I live in the Highlands sae grand;
I've follow'd my banner, and will do,
Wherever my Maker has land.
When rankit amang the blue bonnets,
Nae danger can fear me ava;
I ken that my brethren around me
Are either to conquer or fa'.
Brogues, and brochan, and a',
Brochan, and brogues, and a";
And is na the laddie weel aff
Wha has brogues,and brochan, and a'?
