Cock up your lugs ye uncouth clatchin’,
An’ listen weel in shuch or kitchen,
Nae mair at straes ye need be catchin’
Placed in a raw.
Wha noo wull backward dunt the britchen,
The Boords’s awa!

Tae it we may in safety trace
The ills that clog the workin’ race,
Nae justice jogs aboot the place
Whaur fermers rule;
The very acum o’ disgrace
Has been their schule.

Let Andras, Johns, a’ Wullys meet
In a’ their tidal wave o’ heat,
The very wee yins on the street
Wull shun agree,
An’ write tae each his title sheet
“Gie a’ tae me.”

But heth a change has noo cum roon
Ower countryside, as weel as toon,
Nae mair oor mesters sing in tune
Their joyous lay,
Since Godly men sup wae the spoon
They used tae hae.

An’ they’re the boys wull ladle oot
The broth o’ freedom roon aboot;
Nae half-boilt cleerick tingit wi’ soot
Wull be oor lot,
But tum’lin’ joints will prod their snoots
Aboon oor pot.

An’ then sae healthy we will grow,
We winna ken the crutchin’ pow
O’ him who guides the brake or plough
The country roon,
Wi’ bitter jibe we’ll fire the low,
An’ keep him doon.
Beside the rapid rinnin’ Maine,
Whaur Nature’s duds is a’ hir ain,
This generation mak’s it plain
The wee, thatchit row
Has been an e’esore – stane on stane,
An’ noo maun go.

Approve’t o’ by the gospel clique,
That meets aside o’t ivery week,
We’ll rive the biggin’ soot an’ theek,
Frae wa’ taa wa’.
They say tae ease oor conscience sleek,
It’s weel awa.

Wae us releegon’s hallowed bays
Maun guid oor fet through fiscal ways,
In road or brig oor psalm o’ praise
In yerds we’ll spin.
‘Twas no wi’ hymn or paraphrase
Ye put us in.

In eloquence we’ll carp o’ dinny,
Augment the rates aboot Carninney,
Billstickin’ tramps maun cut their shinny
Frae gate or stane,
An’ ilka ex-Guardian – Dan or Tammy,
Be let alane.

Cullybackey Auld Number
4th May 1899


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