The Book of Scottish Song/Clout the Caldron

Clout the Caldron.

[From the first vol. of Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. "A tradition," says Burns, "is mentioned" in the 'Bee,' that the second Bishop Chisholm, of Dunblane, used to say, that if he were going to be hanged, nothing could soothe his mind so much by the way as to hear 'Clout the Caldron' played. I have met with another tradition, that the old song to this tune,

'Ha'e ye ony pots or pans,
Or ony broken chandlers,'

was composed by one of the Kenmure family, in the cavalier times; and alluding to an amour he had, while under hiding, in the disguise of an itinerant tinker. The air is also known by the name of 'The Blacksmith and his Apron,' which from the rhythm, seems to have been a line of some old song to the tune."]

Have ye any pots or pans,
Or any broken chandlers?
I am a tinker to my trade,
And newly come frae Flanders,
As scant of siller as of grace:
Disbanded, we've a bad run;
Gar tell the lady of the place,
I'm come to clout her caldron.
Fa, adrie, diddie, diddle, &c.

Madam, if you have wark for me,
I'll do't to your contentment;
And dinna care a single flie
For any man's resentment;
For, lady fair, though I appear
To every ane a tinker,
Yet to yoursell I'm bauld to tell,
I am a gentle jinker.

Love Jupiter into a swan
Turned, for his loved Leda;
He like a bull ower meadows ran,
To carry off Europa.
Then may not I, as well as he,
To cheat your Argus blinker,
And win your love like mighty Jove,
Thus hide me in a tinker?

Sir, ye appear a cunning man;
But this fine plot you'll fail in;
For there is neither pot nor pan,
Of mine, you'll drive a nail in.
Then bind your budget on your back,
And nails up in your apron;
For I've a tinker under tack,
That's used to clout my ca'dron.

---