Norval.
My name is Norval, on the Grampian hills,
My faither keeps his whisky stills,
His occupation is to shield
His whisky stills frae the gauger chiels;
And to keep his son at hame as weel,
Fal, lal, &c.
The moon which shone so bright last night,
Had scarcely set itself—not quite;
When a band o’ gaugers o’er the hills