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
Embro, Embro Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin
