Dear meal (1816-1831)/Calder fair

CALDER FAIR.

As I came in by Calder fair,
⁠and yont the lappard lee man,
There was braw kissing there,
⁠come but and kiss wi me man;
There was highland folk and laland folk,
⁠unco folk and kend folk,
Folk aboon folk i‘ the yard;
⁠Ther's nae folk like our ain folk,

Hech hey Bessy Bell,
⁠kilt your coat Maggy,
Yese get a new gown
⁠down the burn davie.

The earl of Mars bonny thing,
⁠and muckle ⟨booket wallit⟩;
Play the same tune o'er again,
⁠ and down the burn for a that

Gin ye had been whare I hae been,
⁠ye wadna been sae wantin;
I got the lang girdin o't
⁠an' fell thro the gantrin.
O'er the hills and far away,
⁠my bonny winsome Willie,
Whare shall our goodman lie?
⁠the gleed earl of Kelly.

Todle but and todle ben,
⁠hey Tam Brandy,
Crack a louse on Maggys wame,
⁠little Cocky Bendy
Theres three sheeps skins,
⁠the barber an his bason.
The bonny lass o Paties Mill;
⁠wi the free an accepted mason.

On Etterick banks ae summer night,
⁠the clifty rocks to view man;
Katrine Ogie gat a fright,
⁠⟨'mang⟩ Scotlands bells sae blue man.
O wally wally up yon wood,
⁠and down by bonny yarrow,
The lassie lost her ⟨shood⟩
⁠wi Will her winsome marrow.

Stately stapt he east the wa,
⁠the lad I darena name man;
Geordy reigns in Charlies hay
⁠send Lewie Gordon hame man;
In winter when the rain rain'd cauld;
⁠Willie brew'd a peck o ⟨maut⟩ man;
John Anderson yer'e growing auld,
⁠pit a sheeps head i' the pat man.

The tailor cam to clout the claise,
⁠upon a lammas night man,
Which caus'd the battle o'the flaes,
⁠and shaw'd M'Craw great might man;
John Tamson at the key-hole keeks,
⁠my Wifes a wanton pauky,
Shes clouting Johnnys grey brecks,
⁠and Bess shes but a gauky.

In Fife there liv'd a wicked wife,
⁠And she has taen the gee man,
The ⟨door⟩ barring caus'd the strife,
⁠and Sandy o'er the lee man;
Tarry woo frae Tweedside came,
⁠nae Aberdeen cauld kail man,
Made gude Scotch brose to fill our wame
⁠could Donald M'Donald fail man.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
⁠sae merrys we hae been man;
Yet still on menni s charms I doat,
⁠at Polwart on the green man;
Willie was a wanton wag,
⁠and push'd about the jorum,
While Rob the Ranter burst his bag,
⁠playing the Reel of Tullochgorum.

FINIS.

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P. Buchan, Printer, Peterhead.