The German Lairdie

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The German Lairde  

Wha the de'il ha'e we gotten for a king,
But a wee wee German lairdie
And when we gaed to bring him hame
He was delving in his kail yairdie.
He was sheughin' kail and laying locks
Without the hose and but the breeks,
And up his beggard duds he cleeks,
This wee wee German lairdie.

An he's clappit down in our gudeman's chair
The wee wee German lairdie
And he's brought forth o' foreign trash,
And dibbled them in his yairdie,
He's pu'd the rose o' English loons,
And broken the harp o' Irish clowns,
But our Scots thistle will jag his thumbs,
The wee wee German lairdie.

Come up amang our Highland hills
Thou wee wee German lairdie,
And see how the Stuart's lang kail thrive,
They dibbled in our yairdie:
And if a stock thou daur to pu'
Or hand the yokin' o' a plough,
We'll break your sceptre owre your mou'
Thou wee bit German lairdie.

Auld Scotland thou'rt owre cault a hold
For nursin' siccan vermin;
But the very dogs o' England's court
They bark and howl in German.
They keep thy dibble in thy ain hand,
They spade but and thy yairdie,
For wha' the de'il now claims your land
But a wee wee German lairdie!
 

 


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