The Book of Scottish Song/Tugal M'Taggart

Tugal M'Taggart.

Would you'll knaw me, my name it is Tugal M'Tagger,
She'll brought hersel' down frae the braes o' Lochaber,
To learn her nainsel to be praw habberdaber,
Or fine linen-draber, the tane or the twa.

She'll being a stranger, she'll look very shy-like:
She's no weel acquaint wi your laigh kintra dialect;
But hoogh! never heed, she's got plenty o' Gaelic—
She comes frae ta house at the fit o' Glendoo.

But her kilt she'll exchange for ta praw tandy trowser,
An' she'll learn to ta lady to scrap an' to pow, sir,
An' say to ta shentlemans. How did you'll do, sir?
An' ten she'll forget her poor friens at Glendoo.

An' when she'll pe spoket ta laigh kintra jabber,
She'll gi'e hersel' out for ta laird o' Lochaber,
Shust come for amusements to turn habberdaber,
For tat will pe prawer tan herding ta cow.

She'll got a big shop, an' she'll turn'd a big dealer;
She was caution hersel', for they'll no sought no bailer,
But Tugal M'Tagger hersel' mak's a failure,—
They'll call her a bankrumpt, a trade she'll not knew.

They'll called a great meeting, she'll look very quate now.
She'll fain win awa', but they'll tell her to wait now;
They'll spoket a lang time, 'pout a great estate now;
She'll thocht that they'll thocht her the laird o' Glendoo.

They'll wrote a lang while about a trust deeder,
She'll no write a word, for hersel' couldna read her,
They'll sought compongzition, hough, hough, never heed her,—
There's no sic a word 'mang the hills o' Glendoo.

But had she her durk, hersel' would devour them,
They'll put her in jail when she'll stood there before them;
But faith she'll got out on a hashimanorum;
And now she's as free as the win's on Glendoo.

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