Digital Tradition Mirror

Wallifou Fa' the Cat

Wallifou Fa' the Cat

     There was a bonnie wi' laddie,
       Was keeping a bonny whine sheep;
     There was a bonnie wee lassie,
       Was wading the water sae deep,
     Was wading the water sae deep,
       And a little above her knee;
     The laddie cries unto the lassie,
       Come down Tweedside to me.

     And when I gade down Tweed-side,
       I heard, I dinna ken what,
     I heard ae wife say t' anither,
       Wallifou fa' the cat;
     Wallifou fa' the cat,
       She's bred the house an wan ease,
     She's open'd the am'ry door,
       And eaten up a' the cheese.

     She's eaten up a' the cheese,
       O' the kebbuck she's no left a bit;
     She's dung down the bit skate on the brace,
       And 'tis fa'en in the sowen kit;
     'Tis out o' the sowen kit,
       And 'tis into the maister-can;
     It will be sae very sa't,
       'Twill poison our goodman.


     As I came down bonny Tweed-side,
       I heard and I wist nae what;
     I heard ae wife say to anither,
       O waly fu fa' the cat!

     O waly fu fa the cat!
       For she has bred muckle wanease;
     She has open'd the amry door,
       And has eaten up a' our bit cheese.

     She has eaten up a' the bit cheese;
       O' the bannocks she's no left a mote;
     She has dung the hen aff her eggs;
       And she's drown'd in the sowin-boat.

     O waly fu fa the cat!
       I kend she wad never do grace;
     She has pist i' the backet of sa't;
       And has dung the bit fish aff the brace.

     She has dung the bit fish aff the brace;
       And it's fallen i' the maister-can;
     And now it has sic a stink,
       It'll pizen the silly good man.

     Herd 1776; (1), II.139 [1.2 whine = wheen, "a few"];
     (2), II.214.   The maister-can is a container for urine,
     used for washing etc.  Fragmentary version recovered by
     ed. 1958, Cupar, Fife:

Willifou fa' the cat,

For she's gien us the hert disease,

She's into the pantry door

And she et up a' the cheese.

She's pisht in the [words wanting]

. . . . . .

And noo it has siccan a taste

As'll poison our ain guidman.

On line 2 of this, cf. "I'll hae nae mair o' yer cheese".

Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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