The Book of Scottish Song/This is no my ain house

This is no my ain house.

[The following is a Jacobite version of "This is no my ain house." Whether or not it is older than Ramsay's we cannot say.]

O, this is no my ain house,
I ken by the biggin' o't;
For bow-kail thrave at my door cheek,
And thristles on the riggin' o't.

A carle came wi' lack o' grace,
Wi' unco gear and unco face;
And sin' he claim'd my daddie's place
I downa bide the triggin' o't.
O, this is no my ain house, &c.

Wi' routh o' kin, and routh o' reek,
My daddie's door it wadna steek;
But bread and cheese were his door cheek,
And girdle-cakes the riggin' o't.
O, this is no my ain house, &c.

My daddie bigg'd his housie weel,
By dint o' head, and dint o' heel,
By dint o' arm, and dint o' steel,
And muckle weary priggin' o't.
O, this is no my ain house, &c.

Then was it dink, or was it douce,
For ony cringing foreign goose,
To claught my daddie's wee bit house,
And spoil the hamely triggin' o't?
O, this is no my ain house, &c.

Say, was it foul, or was it fair,
To come a hunder mile and mair,
For to ding out my daddie's heir,
And dash him wi' the wiggin' o't?
O, this is no my ain house, &c.

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