Alastair MacAlastair
M. Lang
Oh Alastair MacAlastair, Your chanter sets us a' asteer,
Get out your pipes and blaw wi'birr,
We'll dance the Highlandfling.
Now Alastair has tuned his pipes,
an' think as bumbees frae their hives,
The lads an' lasses leap the dykes,
An' gather on the green.
Oh Alastair MacAlastair, Your chanter sets us a' asteer,
Get to your bags ad blow wi'birr,
We'll dance the Highlandfling.
The miller Hab was fidgin' fain
to dance the Highland fling his lane;
He lap an' danced wi' might an' main,
the like was never seen.
Oh Alastair MacAlastair, Your chanter sets us a' asteer,
Get out your pipes and blaw wi'birr,
We'll dance the Highlandfling.
Now Alastair has done his best;
An' weary stumps are wantin' rest,
For bye we'drouth they're sair disstressed,
Wi' danci' sae, I ween.
Oh Alastair MacAlastair, Your chanter sets us a' asteer,
Get to your bags ad blow wi'birr,
We'll dance the Highlandfling.
As round about the ring he whuds,
An' cracks his thumbs, an' shakes his duds,
The meal flew frae his tail in clouds,
An' blinded a; their e'en.