As I cam in by Fisherrow

As I came in by Fisherrow
Musselburgh was near me:
I threw off my mussel pock
And courted wi' my dearie.

CHORUS: Up stairs, down stairs
Timber stairs fears me,
I thought it lang to lie my lane
When I'm sae near my dearie.

Oh had her apron bidden doun,
The kirk wad ne'er hae kend it,
But since the word's gane thro the toun,
My dear, I canna mend it.

But ye maun mount the cutty-stool
And I maun mount the pillar,
And that's the way that poor folks do,
Because they hae nae siller.

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Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin