The Book of Scottish Song/Willie was a wanton wag
Willie was a wanton wag.
[This song first appeared in the Tea-Table Miscellany, vol. ii., 1725, with the initials W. W. attached, and its authorship is generally ascribed to William Walkinshaw of Walkinshaw, near Paisley. The hero of it is said to have been William Hamilton of Gilbertfield, Lanarkshire, the poetical correspondent of Ramsay, and author of the metrical Life of Sir William Wallace. Mr. David Laing even inclines to think that Hamilton was not only the hero but the real author of the song, and that the initials merely indicate his well-known sobriquet of Wanton Willie.]
Willie was a wanton wag,
The blythest lad that e'er I saw,
At bridals still he bore the brag,
An' carried aye the gree awa'.
His doublet was of Zetland shag,
And wow! but Willie he was braw,
And at his shoulder hang a tag,
That pleas'd the lasses best of a'.
He was a man without a clag,
His heart was frank without a flaw;
And aye whatever Willie said,
It still was hauden as a law.
His boots they were made of the jag,
When he went to the weaponschaw,
Upon the green nane durst him brag,
The ne'er a ane amang them a'.
And was na Willie weel worth gowd?
He wan the love o' great and sma';
For after he the bride had kiss'd,
He kiss'd the Lasses hale-sale a'.
Sae merrily round the ring they row'd,
When by the hand he led them a',
And smack on smack on them bestow'd,
By virtue of a standing law.
And was na Willie a great loun,
As shyre a lick as e'er was seen;
When he danc'd wi' the lasses round,
The bridegroom speir'd where he had been,
Quoth Willie, I've been at the ring,
Wi' bobbing, baith my shanks are sair;
Gae ca' your bride and maidens in,
For Willie he dow do nae mair.
Then rest ye, Willie, I'll gae out,
And for a wee fill up the ring.
But, shame light on his souple snout,
He wanted Willie's wanton fling.
Then straught he to the bride did fare,
Says, Weels me on your bonnie face;
Wi' bobbing Willie's shanks are sair,
And I'm come out to fill his place.
Bridegroom, she says, ye'll spoil the dance,
And at the ring ye'll aye be lag,
Unless like Willie ye advance:
O! Willie has a wanton leg;
For wi't he learns us a' to steer,
And foremost aye bears up the ring;
We will find nae sic dancing here,
If we want Willie's wanton fling.