Faur-Ye-Weel

As ye come through the Sea-Gate ye’ll find a hoose we kenWhaur, when a man is drouthy, his drouth an’ he gang ben,And whiles o’ nichts there’s dancin’ and aye there’s drink by dayAnd a fiddler-carle sits yonder an’ gars his fiddle play:“Oh come, ye ancient mariners,Nae maitter soond or lame,For tho’ ye gae on hirplin’ taeYe’ll syne gang dancin’ hame;The years are slippin’ past yeLike water past the bows,Roond half the warld ye’ve toss’d yer dram but sune ye’ll hae tolowse.”The toon is like a picture, the sea is bonnie blue,The fiddle’s cryin’ aff the shore to captain, mate, an’ crew,An’ them that’s had for music the swirl o’ gannet’s wings,The winds that drive frae Denmark, they dootna what it sings:“Oh come, ye dandy Baltic ladsThat sail to Elsinore,Ye’re newly in, ye’ll surely winTo hae a spree ashore;Lairn frae the sea, yer maister,When fortune’s i’ ye’re debt,The cauld waves washin’ past the bar tak’ a’ that they can get!”

And when the quays are lichtit an’ dark the ocean lies,The daft mune, like a feckless fule, keeks doon to mock the wise;Awa’ in quiet closes the fiddle’s voice is heardWhaur some that should be sleepin’ are listenin’ for its word:“Sae haste ye noo, ye rovin’ queyns,An’ gie yer dads the slip,Tho’ dour auld men sit girnin’ benThere’s young anes aff the ship,Come, tak’ yer fill o’ dancin’,Yer he’rts at hame maun bide,For the lad that tak’s a he’rt to sea will drap it owre the side!”

And aye the fiddle’s playin’, the auld bow wauks the string,The auld carle, stampin’ wi’ his fit, gies aye the time a swing;Gang East, gang West, ye’ll hear it, it lifts ye like a reel:It’s niver dumb, an’ the tune sings “Come,” but its name isFaur-ye-weel!