The Book of Scottish Song/John Tod

John Tod.

He's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod,
He's a terrible man, John Tod;
He scolds in the house, he scolds at the door,
He scolds in the very hie road, John Tod,
He scolds in the very hie road.

The weans a' fear John Tod, John Tod,
The weans a' fear John Tod;
When he's passing by, the mothers will cry,
Here's an ill wean, John Tod, John Tod,
Here's an ill wean, John Tod.

The callants a' fear John Tod, John Tod,
The callants a' fear John Tod;
If they steal but a neep, the laddie he'll whip,
And it's unco weel done o' John Tod, John Tod,
And it's unco weel done o' John Tod.

And saw ye nae little John Tod, John Tod?
O saw ye nae little John Tod?
His shoon they were re'in, and his feet they were seen,
But stout does he gang on the road, John Tod,
But stout does he gang on the road.

How is he fendin', John Tod, John Tod?
How is he fendin', John Tod?
He is scourin' the land wi' a rung in his hand,
And the French wadna frighten John Tod, John Tod,
And the French wadna frighten John Tod.

Ye're sun-burnt and batter'd, John Tod, John Tod,
Ye're tautit and tatter'd, John Tod;
Wi' your auld strippit cowl ye look maist like a fule;
But there's nouse in the linin', John Tod, John Tod,
But there's nouse in the linin', John Tod.

He's weel respeckit, John Tod, John Tod,
He's weel respeckit, John Tod;
Though a terrible man, we'd a' gang wrang,
If he should leave us, John Tod, John Tod,
If he should leave us, John Tod.

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