The Buchan sangster/The Love of Barleybree

by John Longmuir

·

THE LOVE OF BARLEYBREE.

Tune—"Aiken Drum."

There dwalls a man in our toun,
In our toun, in our toun,
There dwalls a man in our toun
⁠Wha lo'es the barleybree.
Whan he gaes to the chainge-house,
Wi' neibour chiels to hae a bouse,
Oh, vow, but he is wondrous crouse
⁠Whan filled wi' barleybree!

But wae's me for his wife and weans,
His wife an' weans, his wife an' weans,
A broken head an' sair banes
⁠They a' maun sairly dree;
His elbucks through his sleeves are seen,
His taes are glowrin' through his sheen;
While bloated cheeks and blawart een
⁠Spring frae the barleybree

An' wae's me for his kail-pat,
His kail-pat, his kail-pat,
The lythe side anee had blobs o' fat,
⁠There's naething now but bree.
He's out o' wark, he's out o' claes;
The cauld begins his banes to craze;
His credit's deen in ilka place,
⁠Through love o' barleybree.

An' wae's me for his bare house,
His bare house, his bare house,
There's nae a mealock for a mouse
⁠In's kist or almorie.
The table, chairs, and steels hae fled;
The claes hae slippit frae the bed;
His raggit weans maun beg their bread
⁠Frae cauldrife charitie!

An' wae's me for his life o' sin,
His life o' sin, his life o' sin,
The drunkard's laugh and swearer's din
⁠Come hame wi' barleybree.
He wales nae portion frae the Book;
Nae psalm is sung frae ouk to ouk;
A bendit knee, an upward look,
⁠His bairnies never see.

Then leave the dubs to deuks and swine,
An' tak the pledge an' boldly sign,
That peace and plenty may combine
⁠To bless your wife and weans.
Then we sall sing, "In our toun,
In our toun, in our toun,
There's nae a man in our toun
Wha lo'es the barleybree!"