Ae
Martinmas term I gaed tae the fair
Tae view the young lassies an’ get the fresh air
I feed hame till a mannie tae ca’ his third pair
Twas a’ fae ma Jock o’ the Fornet
On
Sunday mornin’ he started tae tease
He came oot tae the stable wi’ a flagon o’ grease
Rub yer horse weel doon fae the queets tae the knees
For they’re a’ cripple-nags at the Fornet
An’ the sun it cam oot an’ meltit the grease
An’ oot fae the hive cam a hale swarm o’ bees
Says I tae masel it’s a plague o’ the fleas
Cam doon on the lads o’ the Fornet
Noo here’s tae oor foreman he comes frae Baquhine
He aince wis a navvy an’ wrocht on the line
He feeds his horse weel but he hauds on the twine
For the work’s aye ahin at the Fornet
An’ here’s tae oor second tae rant an’ tae reel
A bit o’ a poet an’ some half o’ a feel
But the lassies a’ aroon they like him sae weel
That he’ll seen win awa fae the Fornet
An’ here’s tae oor third a stappin’ young chiel
Tae dae his wark richt it sets him richt weel
But he wisna lang hame when he thocht he wad heel
An’ never look back tae the Fornet
An’ we have a baillie he comes fae Kinnaird
A little wee mannie some scant o’ a beard
But for courtin’ the lassies he wad be preferred
For sortin’ the stots at the Fornet
A
loon he wis feed tae advance an’ retire
Atween the neep park an’ the auld coo byre
But he wisna land hane when he soon seemed tae tire
Awa fae ma Jock o’ the Fornet
Noo we have a daughter the flooer o’ the glen
She plays the piano an’ whiles wi’ the men
She runs in the close tae get kippit again
By the braw braw lads o’ the Fornet
At
the kirk on Sunday she wears a veil
A yaird o’ ribbon in a great lang trail
An’ her hair it’s tied up like my horse’s tail
Tae charm a’ the lads o’ the Fornet
But the hairst bein’ back an’ the weather bein’ bad
He turns us a’ oot tae the pick an’ the spad
He tore off his jacket the auld carle gaed mad
An’ he danced an’ he raved at the Fornet.
