Sawney, Sawney what's the matter?

Sawney, Sawney what's the matter
What breeds all this din and clatter
Come to me my handsome Babby
Thou art so much like thy own dear daddy

CHORUS: Sawney thou art my own dear Bairn
        So bravely thou doth fill my arm
        Bring me a blanket and a hippen
        For I think thou art all beshitten.

Sawney thou'st have a blue bonnet
Nipt behind with fine things on it
And a horse that thou may prance on
As well as the best of the Lords among them.

Sawney thou'st be good to the Poor
Thou'st never let them want for meat or good cheer
It is but hanging half an hour
When thou hast Rogu'd it many a year

Sawney I would not for any earthly thing
Thou should die in thy bed
But end thy days on a hempen string
As thy fathers & syne have dun.

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Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin