The Book of Scottish Song/The mighty Munro

The mighty Munro.

[William Finlay of Paisley.]

Come, brawny John Barleycorn, len' me your aid,
Though for such inspiration aft dearly I've paid,
Come cram up my noddle, and help me to show,
In true graphic colours, the mighty Munro.

O! could ye but hear him his stories rehearse,
Whilk the like was ne'er heard o', in prose or in verse,
Ye wad laugh till the sweat doon your haffets did flow,
At the matchless, magnificent, mighty Munro.

With such pleasing persuasion, he blaws in your lug,
Ye wad think that the vera inanimate jug,
Whilk stauns on the table, mair brichtly doth glow
At the wild witching stories o' mighty Munro.

Such care-killing capers—such glorious riggs,
Such cantrin' on cuddies, and cadging in gigs,
Such rantin', and jauntin', and shouting, and show,
Could ne'er be display'd but by mighty Munro.

Great Goliah o' Gath, who came out and defied,
With the big swelling words o' vain glory and pride,
The brave armies of Israel, as all of ye know,
Was a dwarf looking bodie, compared wi' Munro.

And Sampson, that hero, who slew men en masse
Wi' naething but just the jaw bane o' an ass;
And drew down a house on himsel' and the foe,
Was a puir feckless creatur' compared wi' Munro.

The chivalrous knight of la Mancha, 'tis true,
And Baron Munchausen, had equals but few;
Their exploits have astonished the warl, but lo'
Both the Don and the Baron must bow to Munro.

But a tythe o' his merit nae words can impart,
His errors are all of the head not the heart;
Though his tongue doth a little too trippingly go,
Yet a guid chiel at bottom, is mighty Munro.

Though the lamp o' his fame will continue to burn,
When even his dust to the dust shall return,
And for ages to come a bright halo will throw
O'er the mouldering remains o' the mighty Munro.

---