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Stop, stop, Beelzebub, and read aloud that bit of

paper you have in




Yes, sir.


Lord sauf us, what a voice! They're my ain verses, too. Whisht, whisht 1

BEELZEBUB sings The Great Muckle Village of Bal

maquhapple,to the tune of The Sodger Laddie.

D'ye ken the big village of Balmaqubapple,
The great muckle village of Balmaquhapple?
'Tis steep'd in iniquity up to the thrapple,
An' what's to become o' poor Balmaquhapple ?

Fling a' aff your bannets, an' kneel for your life, fo’ks,
And pray to St Andrew, the god o' the Fife fo’ks;
Gar a' the hills yout wi' sheer vociferation,
And thus you may cry on sic needfu' occasion :

“O, blessed St Andrew, if e'er ye could pity fo’k,
Men fo’k or women fo’k, country or city fo’k,
Come for this aince wi’ the auld thief to grapple,
An' save the great village of Balmaqubapple
Frae drinking an' leeing, an' flyting an' swearing,
An' sins that ye wad be affrontit at hearing,
An' cheating an' stealing ; O, grant them redemption,
All save an except the few after to mention:

“ There's Johnny the elder, wha hopes ne'er to need ye,
Sae pawkie, sae holy, sae gruff, an' sae greedy;
Wha prays every hour as the wayfarer passes,
But aye at a hole where he watches the lasses ;
He's cheated a thousand, an' e'en to this day yet,
Can cheat a young lass, or they’re leears that say

it Then gie him his gate; he's sae slee an' sae civil, Perhaps in the end he may wheedle the devil.



“ There's Cappie the cobbler, an' Tammie the tinman,
An' Dickie the brewer, an' Peter the skinman,
An' Geordie our deacon, for want of a better,
An' Bess, wha delights in the sins that beset her.
O, worthy St Andrew, we canna compel ye,
But ye ken as weel as a body can tell ye,
If these gang to heaven, we'll a' be sae shockit,
Your garret o' blue will but thinly be stockit.

“ But for a' the rest, for the women's sake, save them,
Their bodies at least, an' their sauls, if they have them ;
But it puzzles Jock Lesly, an' sma' it avails,
If they dwell in their stamocks, their heads, or their tails.
An' save, without word of confession auricular,
The clerk’s bonny daughters, an' Bell in particular ;
For ye ken that their beauty's the pride an' the staple
Of the great wicked village of Balmaquhapple !"

NORTH (aside to TICKLER.) Hogg's, bad.


What's that you twa are speaking about? Speak up!


These fine lines must be preserved, James. Pray, are they allegorical ?


Preserve's, what a dracht's in that lum! &c.Noctes AMBROSIANÆ, No. XXVI.

Christopher might well ask such a question, for I cannot conceive what could induce me to write a song like this. It must undoubtedly have some allusion to circumstances which I have quite forgot.


The air of this Jacobite song is to be found in Smith's Scottish Minstrel. It was first published by Captain Fraser.

Was ever old warrior of suffering so weary?

Was ever the wild beast so bay'd in his den? The southron bloodhounds lie in kennel so near me,

That death would be freedom to Callum-a-Glen.

My sons are all slain, and my daughters have left me,

No child to protect me, where once there were ten; My chief they have slain, and of stay have bereft me,

And wo to the grey hairs of Callum-a-Glen!

The homes of my kinsmen are blazing to heaven,

The bright steep of morning has blush'd at the view; The moon has stood still on the verge of the even,

To wipe from her pale cheek the tint of the dew :

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