An were ye up in Embro, Jock? An were ye quate an douce? Ir were ye packan gelignite Aa roon St. Andro's Hoose? CHORUS: Wi a dirrum-a-doo-an-dee-a-dum An a dirrum-a-doo-a-day. Ay, ah wis up in Embro, man, Bit the House ah nivir saw, Ah wisna packan gelignite - Ah wis studyin the law. Ah gaed ti the High Coort pantomime, The law wis daean a play: They hed fowr fellies in the dock They cried the S.R.A. Ying Bobbie Watt, the horse-doctor, Wis talkan guid horse-sense, He made the fowr intelligent - An the polis affa dense. An Calum fae Fife wis juist as nice An fly as ony laird: - "O, were we framed in Embro here Ir doun in Scotland Yaird?" O, Owen Gillan, he cam third, His policy the same: He kennt insurance inside-oot An he turned doon thir claim. An Raymond Forbes wis playan the pairt O Tam wi the Glaikit Look, An actan daft ti hide the facts He'd writ in his wee black buke. O, Cullen, the Bad Yin, he sleekt in, His cloak up ti his chin. Wi skeelie plot an strategie He'd run the haill fowr in. Bit Donald, the cobbler, he bobbed up, An though he bobbed up late, He fairly wheecht oot Cullen's gun - An served it on a plate. Syne Lionel Daiches waved his hand An mesmerised the haa An proved thit the fowr boys in the dock Juist werena there at a. Lord Thompson gied the summin-up - The jury got a glower: We'll gie the boys a twalmonth's spell - An think the haill thing owre. Bit Cullen got the biggest cheer, Ye'd a heard it doun in Leith Gin it hadna been his escort, man, We'd'a haen ti send a wreath. Sae ends ma rime o the pantomime, May twal months pass in quick! An here's ti the ceilidh we will gie Whan they kim oot the nick!
Chapbook, volume 4 number 6, special issue: "Rebel" songs of Scotland
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Embro, Embro Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin