The Book of Scottish Song/John Maut

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.

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