The Book of Scottish Song/The Totums

The Totums.

[Written and sung to the tune of "Todlin' Hame," by Archibald Cochrane, a well-known eccentric character in Glasgow, who died a few years back. The song is supposed to be the ditty of a road-mender, and honest John's antipathy to steam-boats may be accounted for from the fact, that when they were introduced on the Clyde, many of the roads to the western coast became deserted, and the road-maker's avocation, of course, either altogether or partially dispensed with in these localities.]

Contented wi' Maggie, how blythe ha'e I been,
This seventeen towmonds we've met aye at e'en;
Though whiles we fa' out, yet we quickly agree,
A kiss turns the difference 'tween Maggie and me.
Though steam-boats are against us we maunna complain,
For our twa bits o' totums are todlin' their lane.

Nae bills I've to pay, nor nae heart-racking fyke,
But to cairney up stanes, at the side of the dyke;
I'm pleased to see them break, and the vivid sparks fly,
But gloom at the steam-boats as they're passing by.
But tho' they're against me I maunna complain,
For my twa bits o' totums are todlin' their lane.

So I'll sing "Captain Glen," wi' a heart fu' o' glee,
And be join'd by the mavis that sings on yon tree;
It warbles sae sweet, makes my hammer stand still,
A' join in the tune, e'en the wee wimpling rill.
Steam-boats may afflict me, but I'll ne'er complain,
For my twa bits o' totums are todlin' their lane.

So sang honest John, as he splinter'd a stane,
Till twa bairns wi' his breakfast cam' todlin' their lane;
They cam' todlin' their lane, arms round ither so fain,
And the twa bits o' totumis cam' todlin' their lane.
They cam' todlin' their lane, arms round ither so fain,
And the twa bits o' totums cam' todlin' their lane.

"Hey, daddy dear, here's your parritch quite het,
Mam struck Jock wi' the spurtle for starting the pat,"
"Whisht, bairnie," says he, and his bonnet he raised,
Look'd up to the sky, while the Giver he praised:
Leaves a soup to the dog, hands the cog back again,
And the twa bits o' totums gaed todlin' hame.

The sun it looks blythe, o'er Coirlick sae hie,
I'll meet my ain wife, wi' the smile in her e'e;
She'll ha'e Jean at her fit, and Tam in her lap,
And she'll toddle to meet me, when I'm at the slap.
Collie's bark welcomes me to a clean hearth stane,
Where my twa bits o' totums gang todlin' their lane.

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