Traditional
There's a fairm toon up in Cairnie,
That's kent baith far an wide,
Tae be the great Drumdelgie
Upon sweet Deveronside.
The fairmer o yon muckle toon
He is baith hard an sair,
An the cauldest day that ever blaws,
His servants get their share.
At five o'clock we quickly rise
An hurry doon the stair;
It's there to corn oor horses,
Likewise tae straik their hair.
Syne, efter workin half-an-hour,
Each tae the kitchie goes,
It's there tae get oor brakfest
Which generally is brose.
We've scarcely got oor brose weel supt,
An gien oor pints a tie,
When the foreman cries, 'Hallo, my lads!
The hour is drawin nigh,'
At sax o'clock the mull's put on,
To gie us a stracht wark;
It taks fower o us tae mak tae her,
Till ye could ring oor sark.
An when the water is put aff,
We hurry doon the stair,
Tae get some quarters through the fan
Till daylicht does appear.
When daylicht does begin tae peep,
An the sky begins tae clear,
The foreman cries oot, 'My lads!
Ye'll bide nae langer here!'
There's sax a ye'll gang tae the ploo,
An twa will drive the neeps,
And the owsen they'll be efter you
Wi strae raips roon their queets.
But when that we were gyanin furth,
An turnin oot tae yoke,
The snaw dank on sae thick an fast
That we were like tae choke.
The frost had been sae very hard,
The ploo she wadna go;
An sae oor cairtin days commenced
Amang the frost an snaw.
But we will sing oor horses' praise,
Though they be young an sma,
They far ootshine the Broadland's anes,
That gang sae full an braw.
Ye dauma swear aboot the toon
It is against the law,
An if ye use profanities
Then ye'll be putten awa.
0, Drumdelgie keeps a Sunday School
He says it is but richt
Tae preach unto the ignorant
An send them Gospel licht!
The term time is comin on
An we will get oor bress,
An we'll gae doon the Huntly toon
An get a pairtin gless.
We'll gae doon the Huntly toon
An get upon the spree;
An a the fun it will commence
The quinies for tae see.
Sae fare ye weel, Drumdelgie,
For I maun gang awa;
Sae fare ye weel Drumdelgie,
Yet weety widder an a!
Sae fare ye weel, Drumdelgie,
I bid ye a adieu;
I leave ye as I got ye -
A maist unceevil crew!