Allister M'Allister.

page 3

The miller, Rab, was fidgin' fain ²
To dance the Highland fling his lane,
He lap and danced wi' micht and main,
The like was never seen.
As round about the ring he whuds,³
And eracks his thumbs and shakes his duds,⁴
The meal flew frae his tail in cluds,⁵
And blinded a' their e'en.
O Allister M'Allister, &c.

He shock his derblets in the wund,
His feet like hammers strack the grund,
The very moudieewarts ⁶ were stunn'd,
Nor ken'd what it could mean.
Now Allister has done his best,
And weary stumps are needin' rest,
Besides wi' drouth ⁷ they're sair distress'd,
Wi' dancin' sae, I ween.
O Allister M' Allister, &c.