Volume I Part 24 (2/2)

Wha 'll buy caller herrin'?

They 're bonnie fish and halesome farin'; Wha 'll buy caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth?

When ye were sleepin' on your pillows, Dream'd ye ought o' our puir fellows, Darkling as they faced the billows, A' to fill the woven willows.

Buy my caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth.

Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'?

They 're no brought here without brave daring; Buy my caller herrin', Haul'd thro' wind and rain.

Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

Wha 'll buy my caller herrin'?

Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin'!

Wives and mithers, maist despairin', Ca' them lives o' men.

Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

When the creel o' herrin' pa.s.ses, Ladies, clad in silks and laces, Gather in their braw pelisses, Cast their heads, and screw their faces.

Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

Caller herrin 's no got lightlie; Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie; Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin', Gow has set you a' a-singin'.

Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

Neebour wives, now tent my tellin', When the bonny fish ye 're sellin', At ae word be in yer dealin'-- Truth will stand when a' thing 's failin'.

Wha 'll buy caller herrin'? &c.

[48] This song has acquired an extensive popularity, for which it is much indebted, in addition to its intrinsic merits, to the musical powers of the late John Wilson, the eminent vocalist, whose premature death is a source of regret to all lovers of Scottish melody. Mr Wilson sung this song in every princ.i.p.al town of the United Kingdom, and always with effect.

THE LAND O' THE LEAL.[49]

I 'm wearin' awa', John, Like snaw wreaths in thaw, John; I 'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There 's nae sorrow there, John; There 's neither cauld nor care, John; The day 's aye fair I' the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn 's there, John; She was baith gude and fair, John; And, oh! we grudged her sair To the land o' the leal.

But sorrows sel' wears past, John, And joy 's a-comin' fast, John-- The joy that 's aye to last In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear 's that joy was bought, John, Sae free the battle fought, John, That sinfu' man e'er brought To the land o' the leal.

Oh, dry your glist'ning e'e, John!

My saul langs to be free, John; And angels beckon me To the land o' the leal.

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