Excellent new song, called, The smugglers and the gaugers/The Smugglers' Escape from the Jail

THE SMUGGLERS’ ESCAPE FROM

THE JAIL.

Air—Miller o' Dron.

Come all you prisoners in this jail,
⁠rejoice both late and airly,
Since Duncan he has gi’en the bag
⁠to a’ the jailors fairly.
They brought him up from room to room,
⁠to number three by chance;
But Providence to him was kind,
⁠and brought him down at once.

chorus.

Wi' his hizie tizie, soft and easy,
⁠in spite of a' the crew.
He cut their staunchers wi’ a saw,
⁠and bade them a' adieu.

How could he stand the cruel band;
⁠the Bailies and his foes?
Their bread and water he’s exchang’d
⁠for good old Scotish brase.
They thought they had him firm and fast,
⁠which cheer’d them one and a’;
But how their faple it did hing,
⁠when Duncan wan awa’!
Wi’ his hizie, &c.

Contented he could never be,
⁠their usage was so rude,
It rais’d his spirits all at once,
⁠an’ fir’d his highland blood,
To think that he for fourteen years
⁠was to be sent away;
But by a rope he down did drop,
⁠an’ bade them a good day.

Unsatisfy’d with his hard fate,
⁠he always (illegible text) did maurn;
But now he’s fairly out of this,
⁠I hope he’ll no’er return.

Tho’ Stirling bagles range about
⁠an’ strive to bring him back,
If e’er they chance to meet with him,
⁠their crowns, I hope, he’ll crack.

What famous fun it was to me,
⁠to see him on the street,
And how he skipt and lap about,
⁠when he gat to his feet!
With hat in hand he did not stand,
⁠till he the guard was past;
He came from liberty at first,
⁠he’s lauded there at last.

Five months they kept him in this hole;
⁠but now they daily mourn,
Because he’s ta’en a flight from them,
⁠and never will return.
The people flock’d to see the hole,
⁠which made the Bailies rage!
A Smith was brought immediately,
⁠to mend the iron cage.

F I N I S

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Falkirk — T.Johnston, Printer.