Ho the canny clishmaclaver!
Hoot awa’!
Paritch glowry i’ the ee,
Mutchkin for a wee drappee;
Feckfu’ is the barley-bree—
Unco’ gude! Ah! wae is me!
Hey the tousie Tullochgorum!
Ho the mixtie-maxtie jorum!
Hoot awa’!
[We have received a note from the Lazy One, saying that he is staying in the North of Scotland with the Maclather of Maclather. He says, if we were to hear the retainers sing “Rigs Awa’”—of which he encloses a copy—during dinner, accompanying themselves on the national instruments, sporans and claymores, we should never forget it. We don’t suppose we ever should.——On second thoughts, we do not believe he has been out of town at all, but that someone has sent him a guinea Christmas hamper. “Rigs Awa’,” indeed! We’ll give him a recht gude willie waght in his ee when we catch him.—Ed.]