'Tis hard to thole, for gallant soul His frostit thumbs to blaw, Geordie. Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c. Prince Charlie Stuart's ta'en the road, An' braid claymores an' a', Geordie; Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c. I canna tell, ye ken yoursell, Geordie; Your faith, an' trust, an' a', But 'tis o'er true your cause looks blue, 'Tis best to pack awa', Geordie. An' ye maun tak your foreign bike, Your Turks, an' queans, an' a', Geordie, To pluff an' trig your braw new wig, Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c. L There's ae thing I had maist forgot, Perhaps there may be twa, Geordie: Indite us back, when ye gang hame, How they received you a', Geordie. An' tell us how the langkail thrive, An' how the turnips raw, Geordie ; An' how the seybos an' the leeks Are brairding through the snaw, Geordie. Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c. That Hanover's a dainty place, It suits you to a straw, Geordie ; Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c. You've lost the land o' cakes an' weir, Auld Caledonia, Geordie ; Where fient a stand in a' the land, Your motley group an' a', Geordie; Up an' rin awa', Geordie, For fient a stand in all England Your Whigs dare mak ava, Geordie! MY LOVE'S BONNY Is sung by the country people to a fine ballad air, but has never been set to music. It is introduced in character in one of my printed dramas, but I have forgot which, and cannot find it. My love's bonny as bonny can be, My love's blithe as the bird on the tree; And I'll whisper a vow, whatever betide, Her breath is as sweet as the fragrant shower Like my love's cheek in the morning. |