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The Lothian Hairst On August the twelfth frae Aiberdeen We sailed aboard the Prince, And landed safe on Stafford's field Wir harvest tae commence. For six lang weeks the country roon Frae toon tae toon we went, We took ticht weel wi' the Lothian chiels And were aye richt weel content. Oor gaffer, Willie Mathieson Frae sweet Deeside he came, Oor foreman cam' frae that same place And Logan was his name. We followed Logan on the point And weel he layed it doon, And nimbly did he lead oor squad Owre mony the thristle toon. My mate and me we had no chance For Logan's watchful eye, My mate and me we got nae slack For Logan was sae fly. He cleared the bothy every nicht Before he went tae sleep And not sae much as ane did leave But strict his rules did keep. Fareweel Mackenzie, Reid and Rose And the rest o' the merry crew, There's Chalmers, Shepherd, Logan, Jock And the Royal Stewarts too. It's I, mysel', a Hielan' lad Wad wish nae better cheer Than a Lothian lass and a weel-made bed And a nicht's as lang's a year. Come fill our glass and drink it doon Before oor boat shall start And may we safely reach the shore And all in friends part. From The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall Recorded by MacColl RG apr97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!