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George Bruce Thomson

                This is nae a sang o' love na', nor yet a sang o' money,
                Faith it's naethin' verra peetifu', it's naethin' verra funny;
                But there's Hielan' Scotch, Lowland Scotch, Butter Scotch an' honey.
                If there's nane o' them for a' there's a mixture o' the three.
                An' there's nae a word o' beef, brose, sowens, sauty bannocks na',
                Nor pancakes, paes eggs for them wi' dainty stammicks;
                But it's a' aboot a meal and ale that happened at Balmannocks,
                McGinty's meal and ale, whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
                Chorus :
                They were howlin' in the kitchen like a caravan o Tinkies, aye,
                And some were playing ping-pong and tiddely widdely winkies;
                For up the howe an' doon the howe ye niver saw such jinkies,
                As McGinty's meal and ale, whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
                Noo McGinty's pig had broken lowse, an' wannert tae the lobby,
                Whaur he opened shived the pantry door, an' cam' upon the toddy;
                And he took kindly tae the stuff like ony human boddy,
                At M'Ginty's meal and ale whaur the pig gaed on the spree
                Miss McGinty she ran but the hoose, th' wey was dark an' crookit,
                She gaed heelster gowdie ower the pig, for it she never lookit;
                And she lat oot a skirl wad hae paralysed a teuchit,
                At McGinty's meal and ale whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
                Johnnie Murphy he ran efter her, and ower the pig was leapin'
                Whan he trampit on a ashet that was sittin' fu o' dreepin'
                An' he fell doon and peel't his croon, an' quidna haud frae greetin'
                At McGinty's meal and ale whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
                And the pantry shelf cam' ricklin' doon and he was lyin' kirnin'
                Amang saft soap, pease meal, corn floor and yirnin'
                Like a golloch amang trickle but McGinty's wife was girnin'
                At the soss upon her pantry fleer and wadna' lat him be.
                Syne they a' ran skirlin' tae the door but fan that it was tuggit,
                For aye it held the feester, aye the mair they ruggit;
                Till McGinty roared tae bring an axe, he wadna be humbuggit,
                Na' nor lockit in his ain hoose, and that he'd let them see.
                Sae the wife cam' trailin' wi' an axe, an' through the bar was hacket,
                And open flew the door at aince, sae ticht as they were packet,
                And a' the crew cam' rummlin' oot like tatties frae a backet,
                At McGinty's meal and ale whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
                They had spurtles, they had tattie chappers, faith they werena jokin'
                And they swore they'd gar the pig claw whaur he was never yokin'
                But by this time the lad was fou' and didna' care a dockin'
                At McGinty's meal and ale whaur the pig went on the spree.
                Oh! There's eelie pigs an' jeelie pigs, an' pigs for haudin' butter,
                Aye but this pig was greetin' fou' and rowin' in the gutter,
                Till McGinty and his foreman trailed him oot upon a shutter,
                Frae McGinty's meal and ale whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
                Miss McGinty took the thing tae heart an' bidit in her closet,
                An' they rubbit Johnnie Murphy's heid wi' turpentine an' rosit;
                Syne they harl't him wi' meal and ale, ye really wad suposit
                He had sleepit in a mason's trough and risen tae the spree.
                Oh! weary on the barley bree, an' weary fa' the weather,
                For it's keetcherin' 'mang dubs an drink, they gang na' weel thegither;
                But there's little doot McGinty's pig is wishin' for anither
                O' McGinty's meal and ale whaur the pig gaed on the spree.
Footnote : One of my favourite cornkisters, I first heard this humourous song, as a 'wee bittie bairnikie', sung by the 'King o the Cornkisters' Willie Kemp on my grand-parent's, on my mother's side, wind-up gramophone. Willie Kemp and the Aberdeen-born comedian Harry Gordon, the 'Laird o Inversnecky' , were among my Granda's favourites and he had a great collection of thier records. Unfortunately my graunnie threw them out when they purchased a 'modern' record-player! George Bruce Thomson, the writer of this highly entertaining song, was known to relations on my father's side.


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