John Bull is a canker'd carl, he'd nae twin wi his gear, And Sawney now is ten time war, gin a' be true, I hear; But let them say or let them do, it's a' ane to me, I'll never lay aside my cloak, my Wha wants me? CHORUS: O, wha wants me, Sirs, - Wha wants me? I'll take my stand near Downing-street, With, Wha wants me? COURT'NAY sits on the other side, and fair he lightlies me, But weel ken I, it's a' envy, for naer a place has he; He fain wad hae me like himsell, but that can never be, For I'm Keeper of the Signet, Sirs, until the day I die. A raw Scots loun I cam e to town, wi' popularity; They sent me right against o' a' the ministry - But aye sin syne, the luck's been mine, to gree wi' men in pow'r, I've still kept in, thro' thick and thin, and chang'd sides o'er and o'er. Then what care I for a' their jibes, what's a' their din to me? What signifies Auld Reikie, Sirs, St Johnstone, or Dundee? The Scots are Reformation mad, but they are fair to blame An' idle folks, gin they believe, that they'll gar me think shame. Wha'e'er looks at borough books may find cause to complain, My way has been to steek my een; the reason's very plain All Magistrates are honest men, the Burgesses are thieves, I like the Corporations, sirs - think a' Reformers knaves. GRENVILLE he came here yest're'een, an' speer'd when I saw PITT, Wha thinks my popularity in Scotland's got a hit; He talk'd of burning Effigies an' sic like idle prat, An' a' the neighbours round about now jeer me aer an' late. But while I've face to keep in place, I'll scorn the jeering town, I'll bring them back with promisses before I venture down; About the coal and whisky tax I then will loudly bawl, An' if they are not pleas'd wi' that, Starvation seize them all. CHORUS: O, wha wants me, Sirs? Wha wants me? I'll ne'er leave aff my gainfu' note, of - Wha wants me?
Back to Chapter
Back to Contents List
Embro, Embro Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin