When I was a laddie in Auld Reekie toon, I looked for the buckie wife comin' aroon, Wi' a creel on her back and a strap tae her broo; In each hand a pitcher of mussels quite fu'. CHORUS: Fine buckies! Fine buckies! Noo that was her cry. Fresh mussels the day O! Please come and buy. Her red-strippit dress was sae bonny and braw, Up fae Newhaven or far Fisher Raw, Her bright buckled shuin and her wares fae the sea - And followed by bairnies a' jumpin' wi' glee. A' shoutin for buckies as roond her were seen Each wi' a poke and a wee tiny peen. If we wanted mussels, wi' spoons there we ate, And supped them a' up fae oot o' a plate. And late at night when the pubs a' shut doon It's there she'd be found at the tap o' the toon; Wi' drunks all aroon when the hunger did gnaw, Fair gled o' her wares fae far Fisherraw. But alas and alack, noo the sight is quite rare, Yon frienly fish-wife I will see here nae mair, With the passin o' time nae mair will be seen The buckies, the mussels, the wee tiny peen.
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Embro, Embro Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin