She gied the King the Cheshire cheese,
But and the porter fine;
And he gied her the puddock-pies,
But and the blude-red wine.
Then up and spak the dourest Prince,
An admiral was he;
“Let’s keep the Queen o’ England here,
Sin’ better mayna be!
“O mony is the dainty king
That we hae trappit here;
And mony is the English yerl
That’s in our dungeons drear!”
“You lee, you lee, ye graceless loon,
Sae loud’s I hear ye lee!
There never yet was Englishman
That came to skaith by me.
“Gae oot, gae oot, ye fause traitour!
Gae oot until the street;
It’s shame that Kings and Queens should sit
Wi’ sic a knave at meat!”
Then up and raise the young French lord,
In wrath and hie disdain—
“O ye may sit, and ye may eat
Your puddock-pies alane!
“But were I in my ain gude ship,
And sailing wi’ the wind,
And did I meet wi’ auld Napier,
I’d tell him o’ my mind.”
O then the Queen leuch loud and lang,
And her colour went and came;
“Gin ye meet wi’ Charlie on the sea,
Ye’ll wish yersel at hame!”
And aye they birlit at the wine,
And drank richt merrilie,
Till the auld cock crawed in the castle-yard,
And the abbey bell struck three.
The Queen she gaed until her bed,
And Prince Albert likewise;
And the last word that gay ladye said
Was—“O thae puddock-pies!”