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On August the twelfth frae Aiberdeen
We sailed aboard the Prince,
And landed safe on Stafford's field
Wir harvest tae commence.

For six lang weeks the country roon
Frae toon tae toon we went,
We took ticht weel wi' the Lothian chiels
And were aye richt weel content.

Oor gaffer, Willie Mathieson
Frae sweet Deeside he came,
Oor foreman cam' frae that same place
And Logan was his name.

We followed Logan on the point
And weel he layed it doon,
And nimbly did he lead oor squad
Owre mony the thristle toon.

My mate and me we had no chance
For Logan's watchful eye,
My mate and me we got nae slack
For Logan was sae fly.

He cleared the bothy every nicht
Before he went tae sleep
And not sae much as ane did leave
But strict his rules did keep.

Fareweel Mackenzie, Reid and Rose
And the rest o' the merry crew,
There's Chalmers, Shepherd, Logan, Jock
And the Royal Stewarts too.

It's I, mysel', a Hielan' lad
Wad wish nae better cheer
Than a Lothian lass and a weel-made bed
And a nicht's as lang's a year.

Come fill our glass and drink it doon
Before oor boat shall start
And may we safely reach the shore
And all in friends part.

From The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall
Recorded by MacColl
@farm @Scottish @migrant
filename[ LOTHARST

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