The King's muster/The King's muster

THE KING’S MUSTER.

Tune—The Auld Wife ayont the fire.

Little wat ye wha’s coming,
Little wat he wha’s coming,
Little wat ye wha’s coming,
Now the King himsel’s coming.

There’s coaches coming, steam-boats lumming,
Targets coming, turtles scumming,
Bow Street, and Lochaber’s coming
Wi pipes to make a braw bumming

Little ken ye wha's coming.
Clans and clowns and a’s coming.

Gurtis and his cook’s coming,
Glengarry and his tail's coming,
Duke and Dungwaessell’s coming,
And walth o’ gaucie bailies coming.

Little wat ye wha’s coming,
Now the King himsel’s coming.

Tartan s coming, muslin’s coming,
Gregarich’s coming, Greenock’s coming.
Here’s the holly badge o’ Drummond,
And there’s a Celt, that’s but a rum one.

Little ken ye wha’s coming,
Cat and Capperfae's coming.

Breadalbane's breekless kernes are coming,
Paisley’s weaving barns are coming,
Dirks are coming, treddles coming,
Provost Jarvie’s coach is coming.

Little wat ye wha’s coming,
Now the King himsel’s coming.

There’s plaides enow, and mauds coming,
Bonnie border lads coming,
How you stare, ye jade, woman,
To sec the braw cockades coming.

Little wat ye wha’s coming,
Young Buccleuch and a’s coming.

The great Macallummore’s coming,
The thane and the Strathmore’s coming.
A body canna snore, woman,
A’ their piprochs squeeling, bumming.

⟨Little⟩ wat ye wha’s coming,
Warld and wife, and a’s coming.

Auld Reekie’s turn’d a daft woman,
There’s carze in every carft, woman;
And, troth, it’s a’ but weel-becoming,
Now the King himsel’s coming.

Little ken ye wha’s coming.
King and kilt, and a’s coming.|