The Book of Scottish Song/John Maut

John Maut.

Ye'll a' ha'e heard tell o' John Maut, John Maut,
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e heard tell o' John Maut;
He's been sae to blame, that he's got a bad name,
⁠But, faith! he's far waur than he's ca't, John Maut.

His doublet is raggit, John Maut, John Maut,
⁠His doublet is raggit, John Maut,
His hat's down in the crown, he has awfu' like shoon,
⁠And his stockings are waefully gau't, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

He swears like a trooper, John Maut, John Maut,
⁠He swears like a trooper, John Maut;
He ne'er sticks at a lee, and he'll fecht wi' a flee,
⁠Tho' nane but himsel's in the faut, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

He's whiles in the skies, John Maut, John Maut,
⁠He's whiles in the skies, John Maut;
But down in the mud, he plays clash wi' a thud,
⁠And his claes ye might clean wi' a claut, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

The weans they get fun wi' John Maut, John Maut,
⁠The weans they get fun wi' John Maut,
They hoot and they cry as they see him gang by,
⁠But whiles though he lends them a claut, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

The lasses a' lo'e John Maut, John Maut,
⁠The lasses a' lo'e John Maut;
They swear it's no true, but they get themsels fou,
⁠And then they sairly misca't, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

The wives are fond o' John Maut, John Maut,
⁠The wives are a' fond o' John Maut;
They say he is gran', they ne'er mind their guidman,
⁠But they coax, and they cuddle, and daut, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

Sae I redd ye tak' tent o' John Maut, John Maut,
⁠I redd ye tak' tent o' John Maut;
He's no weel to ha'e for a friend or a fae,
⁠Sae I redd ye keep out o' his claut, John Maut.
⁠Ye'll a' ha'e, &c.

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