In June, when broom in bloom was seen, And bracken waved fu' fresh and green, And warm the sun, wi' silver sheen, The hills and glens did gladden, O; Ae day, upon the Border bent, The tinklers pitch'd their gypsy tent, And auld and young, wi' ae consent, Resolved to haud a waddin', O.
Chorus:
Dirrim day doo a day, Dirrim doo a da dee, O, Dirrim day doo a day, Hurrah for the tinklers' waddin', O.
The bridegroom was wild Norman Scott, Wha thrice had broke the nuptial knot, And ance was sentenced to be shot For breach o' martial orders, O. His gleesome joe was Madge MaKell, A spaewife, match for Nick himsel', Wi' glamour, cantrip, charm, and spell, She frichted baith the Borders,
Nae priest was there, wi' solemn face, Nae clerk to claim o' crowns a brace; The piper and fiddler played the grace To set their gabs a-steerin', O. Mang beef and mutton, pork and veal, Mang paunches, plucks, and fresh cow-heel, Fat haggises, and cauler jeel, They clawed awa' careerin', O.
Fresh salmon, newly taen in Tweed, Saut ling and cod o' Shetland breed, They worried, till kytes were like to screed, Mang flagons and flasks o' gravy, O. There was raisin-kail and sweet-milk saps, And ewe-milk cheese in whangs and flaps, And they rookit, to gust their gabs and craps, Richt mony a cadger's cavie, O.
The drink flew round in wild galore, And soon upraised a hideous roar Blithe Comus ne'er a queerer core Saw seated round his table, O. They drank, they danced, they swore, they sang, They quarrell'd and greed the hale day lang, And the wranglin' that rang amang the thrang Wad match'd the tongues o' Babel, O.
The drink gaed dune before their drooth, That vexed baith mony a maw and mooth, It damp'd the fire o' age and youth And every breast did sadden, O; Till three stout loons flew ower the fell, At risk o' life, their drouth to quell, And robb'd a neebourin' smuggler's stell, To carry on the waddin', O.
Wi' thunderin' shouts they hail'd them back To broach the barrels they werena slack, While the fiddler's plane-tree leg they brak' For playin' "Farewell to Whisky, O". Delirium seized the roarous thrang, The bagpipes in the fire they flang, And sowtherin' airns on riggin's rang, The drink play'd siccan a plisky, O.
The sun fell laich owre Solway banks, While on they plied their roughsome pranks, And the stalwart shadows o' their shanks, Wide ower the muir were spreadin', O. Till, heads and thraws, amang the whins, They fell wi' broken brows and shins, And sair craist banes filled mony skins, To close the tinklers' waddin', O.
Text in this case from Wilma Paterson's Songs of Scotland (Mainstream Publishing, 1996).
spaewife: fortune-teller cantrip: spell, charm gabs a-steerin': mouths a-working plucks: herrings damaged by the net cauler jeel: cool or fresh jelly kytes were like to screed: bellies were like to rip milk saps: food soaked in milk whangs and flaps: chunks and slices rookit, to gust their gabs and craps: stole, to stuff their mouths and bellies cadger's cavie: grumbler's hen-coop drooth, drouth: thirst sowtherin' airns: soldering irons siccan a plisky: such a trick sair craist: badly cracked
There is a midi of the tune with the DT file The Day We Went to Rothesay, O, but the rhythm has been rather ironed out of it, so I've made another from the notation in the Paterson book. It goes to the Mudcat Midi Pages; until it appears there, as a temporary measure it may be heard via the South Riding Folk Network site: