The Book of Scottish Song/Argyll is my name
Argyll is my name.
[Attributed to the celebrated John, Duke of Argyll and Greenwich, who figures so favourably in the "Heart of Midlothian" as the patron of Jeanie Deans. He died in 1743, at the age of sixty-three. A modified version of the song, by Sir Alex. Boswell, Bart. of Auchinleck, is given in the 3d. vol. of George Thomson's collection.—Air, "Bannocks o' barley."]
Argyll is my name, and you may think it strange,
To live at a court, yet never to change;
A' falsehood and flattery I do disdain,
In my secret thoughts nae guile does remain.
My king and my country's foes I have faced,
In city or battle I ne'er was disgraced;
I do every thing for my country's weal,
And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
Adieu to the courtie of London town,
For to my ain countrie I will gang down;
At the sight of Kirkaldy ance again,
I'll cock up my bonnet, and march amain.
O, the muckle deil tak' a' your noise and strife:
I'm fully resolved for a country life,
Whare a' the braw lasses, wha ken me weel,
Will feed me wi' bannocks o' barley meal.
I will quickly lay down my sword and my gun,
And put my blue bonnet and my plaidie on;
With my silk tartan hose, and leather-heel'd shoon,
And then I will look like a sprightly loon.
And when I'm sae dress'd frae tap to tae,
To meet my dear Maggie I vow I will gae,
Wi' target and hanger hung down to my heel;
And I'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
I'll buy a rich garment to gi'e to my dear,
A ribbon o' green for Maggie to wear;
And mony thing brawer than that I declare,
Gin she will gang wi' me to Paisley fair.
And when we are married, I'll keep her a cow,
And Maggie will milk when I gae to plow;
We'll live a' the winter on beef and lang kail,
And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.
Gin Maggie should chance to bring me a son,
He'll fight for his king, as his daddy has done;
He'll hie him to Flanders, some breeding to learn,
And then hame to Scotland, and get him a farm.
And there we will live by our industry,
And wha'll be sae happy as Maggie and me?
We'll a' grow as fat as a Norway seal,
Wi' our feasting on bannocks o' barley meal.
Then fare ye weel, citizens, noisy men,
Wha jolt in your coaches to Drury Lane;
Ye bucks o' Bear-garden, I bid you adieu,
For drinking and swearing, I leave it to you.
I'm fairly resolved for a country life,
And nae langer will live in hurry and strife;
I'll aff to the Highlands as hard's I can reel,
And whang at the bannocks o' barley meal.