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LADS O' THE FAIR (Brian McNeill of Falkirk)
    Come, bonnie lass, and lie near me,
    And let the brandy cheer ye,
    For the road frae Fife to Falkirk's lang
    And cold and wet an' dreary.
    My trade, it is the weaving
    At the bonnie toon o' Leven;
    An' we'll drink to the health o' the fairmer's dames
    Who'll buy oor claith the morn

    cho: For ye can see them a', the lads o' the fair,
         Lads frae the Forth an' the Carron Water,.
         Workin' lads an' lads wi' gear,
         Lads that'll sell ye the provost's dochter,
         Sogers back frae the German Wars,.
         Peddlers up frae the Border;

    An' lassies wi' an eye for mair than the kye,
    At the tryst an' fair o' Falkirk
    Come, Geordie, lead the pony for the path is steep an' stony,
    An' we're three lang weeks frae the Isle o' Skye.
    An' the beasts are thin an' bony.
    We'll tak the last o' the siller.
    An' we'll buy oorsels a gill or two;
    An' we'll drink tae lads who'll buy oor kye.
    In Falkirk in the morn.

    Stan here an' I'll show ye, there's the toon below ye,.
    But ye'd best bide here in the barn the nicht
    For the nichtwatch dinna know ye.
    Ma brither, he's a plooman an' I'm for the feein' noo, man;
    Sae we'll drink tae the price o' the harvest corn
    In Falkirk in the morn.

    O, the wark o' the weaver's over, likewise the days o' the drover,
    An' a plowboy sits on a tractor noo; (too high tae see the clover,)
    The workin's no so steady, but the lads are past the ready.
    For tae drink a health tae the workin' man in Falkirk in the morn.

    (as sung by Dick Gaughan)
    @Scots @farmer