Hap an' rowe the feetie o't

Gae hap an' rowe the feetie o't;
Gae hap an' rowe the feetie o't;
We'll never trow we hae a bairn
Unless we hear the greetie o't.

Auld fashion'd bodies whine an' tell,
   In prophecies precarious,
That our young Charlie never will
   Be sic a man as Harry was.
Auld Harry was an honest man,
   An' nouther flush nor snappy, O;
An' a' the gear that e'er he wan,
   Was spent in makin' happy, O.

There grew a tree at our house end,
   We hack'd it down for fire, O;
An' frae the root, there did ascend,
   A straughter ane an' higher, O.
Then what's to hinder our young blade,
   When sic a sample's shown him, O,
To trace the steps his father gaed,
   An' e'en to gang beyon' them, O?

This day we'll chime in canty rhyme
   What spirit we wad hae him, O,
An' if he run as he's begun,
   Our blessin' aye we'll gie him, O:
We wish him true unto his king,
   An' for his country ready, O;
A steady friend, a master kind,
   An' nouther blate nor greedy, O.

While he shall grace the noble name,
   We'll drink his health in sherry, O;
An aye this day we'll dance an' play
   In reels an' jigs sae merry, O:
But if it's ken'd his actions tend
   To ony ill behavin', O,
This bonny twenty-fourth o' May
   In crape we's a' be wavin', O.

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Music of Dalkeith
Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin