From Helenore, or The Fortunate Shepherdess [and other poems] by Alexander Ross (Edinburgh: William P. Nimmo, 1866), page 287:


TO THE BEGGING WE WILL GO.

[1] Of all the trades that ever was,
The begging is the best.
When I am tired with begging
I will ly down and rest,

CHORUS: To the begging we will go, will go, will go,
To the begging we will go.

[2] And first I’ll have a meal pock
Of good aum’d leather made,
To hold at least a firlot,
And room for beef and bread.

[3] I’ll next unto the turner,
And cause him turn a dish
To hold at least three choppins,
For less I wad na wish.

[4] I’ll then unto the cobbler,
And cause him sole my shoon,
An inch thick in the boddam,
And clouted well aboon.

[5] I’ll carry to the tailor
A web of hoding gray,
That he may make a cloak of it,
To hap me night and day.

[6] Then I’ll unto some greasy cook,
And buy frae him a hat,
That is baith stiff and weather-proof,
And glittering o’er with fat.

[7] Then with my pike-staff in my hand,
To close my begging stock,
I’ll go unto some lucky wife
To hansel my new pock.

[8] But yet ere I begin my trade,
I’ll lat my beard grow strang,
Nor pare my nails for year and day;
For beggars use them lang.

[9] I’ll put no water on my hands,
As little on my face;
For still the lowner like I am,
The more my trade I’ll grace.

[10] When I the men at work espy,
I’ll hirple to the house;
If nane be in but the goodwife,
Then I’ll crack wondrous crouse.

[11] I’ll seek frae her my lodging,
Though it be far frae night j
Then, to let me be trudging,
She’ll sair me right and tight.

[12] At ilka house I’ll play the same,
Till it be growing mark,
And the goodman be sitten down,
And come in frae his wark.

[13] Then saftly leaning o’er my staff,
I’ll say, with hat in hand,
Will the poor man get lodging here?
Alas, I cannot stand.

[14] Then Lucky, happily, will say,
Poor man we hae nae room;
Ere all our fouks be set about,
We wadna had your thumb.

[15] Then, well I wat, goodwife, I’ll say,
Ise no seek near the fire;
Let me but rest my weary banes
Behind backs at the spire.

[16] I’ll seek but bree out of the pot,
Frae ’mang your boiling kail,
To be my supper brose; for I
Mysell hae cap and meal.

[17] Hout ay, poor man, come ben your wa’,
The gossip syne will say;
We’ll ca’ a wedge to make you room,
’T has been a cauldriff day.

[18] When at the fire I’m set a wee,
Then I’ll begin and sing,
And do my best to gar them gauff
All round about the ring.

[19] I’ll pick up all the merry tales,
That I hear anywhere;
And all the news of town and land,
And, oh, I’ll tell them clair.

[20] When the goodwife begins to rise,
And ready mak the kail,
Then I’ll bang out my beggar dish,
And stap it fou of meal.

[21] Then, maybe, the goodwife will say,
Poor man, let be your meal;
Ye’re welcome to your brose the night,
And to your bread and kail.

[22] And then I will be sure to pray,
To haud them all their heal,
And wish that never they nor theirs
Want either milk or meal.

[23] But then I’ll never mind when the
Goodman to labour cries;
The thivel on the pottage pan
Shall strike my hour to rise.

[24] And when I’m tursing at my pocks,
If the goodwife shall say,
Stay still, and get your morning meal;
What maks you haste away?

[25] Oh, then, what bonny words I’ll gie,
And roose her out of wit,
And pray, as lang as I do gang,
That still she there may sit.

[26] When I of any wedding hear,
I’ll cast me to be there,
And pray my hearty benison
Upon the winsome pair.

[27] Then, with my cap into one hand,
My hat into the other,
Wherever foulk are drinking bauld,
I will go bobbing thither.

[28] Then I will to the minstrels say,
For they are never scant,
With leave of the good company,
Play me the Beggar’s Rant.

[29] Then I will wallop out a dance,
Or tell some merry tale,
Till some good fellow in my dish
Turn o’er the stoup and ale.

[30] Then I will drink their healths about,
And wish them a’ good heal,
And pray, they never want enough,
Nor yet a heart to deal.

[31] But I am o’er lang frae my trade,
If things should answer sae;
’Tis time that I were at the gate,
And tursing up the brae.

[32] If things shall answer to my scheme,
I’ll come again and tell;
But if I hae mistane my trade,
Ise keep it to mysell.