The Book of Scottish Song/The Folk at Lindores

The Folk at Lindores.

[This originally appeared in "The Portfolio of British Song," Glasgow, 1834. It was written by James Stirling, at the time schoolmaster of St. James's parish, Glasgow,—now resident in Canada.—Tune, "Eppie Macnab."]

O weel may I mind on the folk at Lindores;
Though it's lang sin' I had onie troke at Lindores;
⁠For the blythe winter night
⁠Flew o'er us fu' light,
Wi' the sang, an' the crack, an' the joke at Lindores.

The auld wife an' the lasses would spin at Lindores;
An' the auld man to tales would begin at Lindores,
⁠How in days o' his youth
⁠The red rebels cam' south,
An' spulzied the feck o' his kin at Lindores.

An' he'd tell monie strange says and saws at Lindores;
How he hated the dominie's tawse at Lindores,
⁠How i' the lang-day
⁠The truan' he'd play,
An' set aff to herrie the craws at Lindores.

An' he'd sing monie an auld warld rhyme at Lindores;
An' tell o' the covenant time at Lindores;
⁠How Clavers, fell chiel'!
⁠Was in league wi' the deil,
How a ball stottit ance aff his wame at Lindores.

They were kind to ilk body that came to Lindores,
To the puir, an' the blind, an' the lame at Lindores;
⁠Wi' handful's o' meal,
⁠An' wi' platefu's o' kale,
An' the stranger was sure o' a hame at Lindores.

But the auld man's departed this life at Lindores;
An' a tear's in the e'e o' the wife at Lindores;
⁠I dinna weel ken
⁠Whan I'll be there again,
But sorrow, I'm fearin', is rife at Lindores.

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