Thee deil cam fiddling through the town,
And danced awa wi' the Exciseman;
And ilk auld wife cry'd, "Auld Mahoun,
"We wish you luck o' the prize man,
chorus.
We'll mak' our maut, and brew our drink,
We'll dance and sing and rejoice, man, And mony thanks to the muckle black de'il,
That danced awa’ wi’ the Exciseman.
There’s threesome reels, and foursome reels,
There’s hornpipes and strathspeys, man.
But the ae best dance that e’er came to our lan’,
Was the de'il's awa’ wi’ the Exciseman.
We'll brew our maut, &c."
