MACFIERCE’UN came to Whiskeyhurst
When summer days were hot, And bided there wi’ Jock McThirst, A brawny brother Scot. Gude Faith! They made the whisky fly, Like Highland chieftains true, And when they’d drunk the beaker dry They sang “We are nae fou! There is nae folk like oor ain folk, Sae gallant and sae true.” They sang the only Scottish joke Which is, “We are nae fou.” Said bold McThirst, “Let Saxons jaw Aboot their great concerns, But bonny Scotland beats them a’, The land o’ cakes and Burns, The land o’ partridge, deer, and grouse, Fill up your glass, I beg, There’s muckle whusky i’ the house, Forbye what’s in the keg.” And here a hearty laugh he laughed, “Just come wi’ me, I beg.” MacFierce’un saw with pleasure daft A fifty-gallon keg.
“Losh, man, that’s grand,” MacFierce’un cried,
. . .   . .
MacFierce’un rode to Whiskeyhurst,
“Has sair misfortune cursed your life
. . .   . .
Upon them both these words did bring
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