Come, bonnie lass, lie near me,
And let the brandy cheer ye,
For the road frae Fife tae Falkirk's lang
And cauld an’ wet an' weary.
My trade, it is the weavin’
In the bonnie toon o' Leven;
An' we'll drink to the health o' the fairmer's dames
Who'll buy oor claith the morn
chorus:
For ye can see them a', the lads o' the fair,
Lads frae the Forth an' the Carron Water,
Warkin' lads an' lads wi' gear,
Lads that'll sell ye the provost's dochter,
Sodgers back frae the German Wars,
Peddlers up frae the Border;
An' lassies wi' an eye for mair than the kye,
At the tryst an' fair at Falkirk.
Come, Geordie, haud the pony
for the path is steep an' stony,
An' we're three lang weeks frae the Isle o' Skye.
An' the beasts are thin an' bony.
We'll tak the last o' the siller.
An' we'll buy oorsels a gill or two;
An' we'll drink tae lads who'll buy oor kye.
In Falkirk toon the morn.
[chorus]
Stan here an' A'll show ye,
there's the toon below ye.
But ye'd best bide here in the barn the nicht
For the nichtwatch dinna know ye.
Ma brither, he's a plooman
An' A'm for the feein' noo, man;
An' we'll drink tae the price o' the harvest corn
In Falkirk toon the morn.
[chorus]
O, the wark o' the weaver's owre,
likewise the days o' the drover,
An' a plooboy sits on a tractor noo;
(too high tae see the clover)
The warkin's nae sae steady,
but the lads are aye still ready,
For tae drink a health tae the workin' man
In Falkirk toon the morn.
[chorus]