Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street,
The bells they ring backward, the drums they are beat,
But the Provost (douce man) said, "Just e'en let it be,
For the town is well rid o' that deil o' Dundee."
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, etc.
There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth;
If there's lords in the south, there are chiefs in the north,
There are brave Dunevassals, three thousand times three,
Will cry hey! for the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, etc.
Then awa' to the hills, to the lea, to the rocks:
Ere I own an usurper I'll crouch wi' the fox;
And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your glee
Ye hae no seen the last of my bonnets and me.
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, etc.
Sir Walter Scott.
SALLY IN OUR ALLEY.
Of all the girls that are so smart,
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
There is no lady in the land
That's half so sweet as Sally:
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Her father he makes cabbage-nets,
And through the streets does cry 'em;
Her mother she sells laces long
To such as please to buy 'em.
But sure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally:
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.