Digital Tradition Mirror


(Archie Fisher)

Lindsay, he has taken to the road
It's straight to the north he'll steer
With a Speyside fiddle in his pack
And with little else for his gear

He's well met with a peddler drouth
And a chance to adjourn to the inn
He's called for ale and he's taken up a pipe
And carelessly slipped to the tune.

And all the night they fiddled and piped
For the dancers had taken to the floor
They never wanted a pipe nor a glass
Nor a lass 'till the music was o'er

They played up through markets and fair
'Till at last to the north they've come
There they met black Janet the widow
Who sang as she rattled her drum

Lindsay called black Janet to dance
And you ne'er saw so bonny a pair
She took him firm by the hand
And they tripped to the top of the stair

Here, she said, is a fine feather bed
Where a man be he weary or drear
May step for me a gay strathspey
With me lilting a tune in his ear

Janet was as good as his word
And Lindsay has proven his worth
May you all have so merry a dance
If ever you come to the north

Recorded by Archie Fisher
Copyright Archie Fisher


Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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