The Fife Laird Poem by Carolina Oliphant

Air - 'The Fife Hunt.'


Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, though daft like he may be;
Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, he's just as wise as me;
Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, his bannet has a
bee
,-
He's just a wee bit Fifish, like some Fife Lairds that be.
Last Lammas when the Laird set out, to see Auld Reekie's toun,
The Firth it had nae waves at a', the waves were sleepin' soun;
But wicked witches bide about gude auld St. Andrews toun,
And they steered up an unco' blast, our ain dear Laird to droun.

Afore he got to Inchkeith Isle, the waves were white an' hie-
'O weel I ken thae witches wud hae aye a spite at me!'
They drove him up, they drove him doon, - the Fife touns a' they pass,
And up and round Queensferry toun, then doun unto the Bass.
The sailors row, but row in vain, Leith port they canna gain-
Nae meat or beds they hae on board, but
there
they maun remain;
O mirk and cauld the midnight hour, how thankfu' did they see
The first blush o' the dawnin' day, far spreadin' owre the sea.
Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, &c.

'Gae hame, gae hame,' the Laird cried out, 'as fast as ye can gang,
Oh! rather than wi' witches meet, I'd meet an
ournatang;
-
A' nicht and day I've been away, an' naething could I see
But auld wives' cantrips on broomsticks, wild cap'ring owre the sea.
I hae na' had a mouth o' meat, nor yet had aff my claes-
Afore I gang to sea again, some
folk
maun mend their ways;'
The Laird is hame wi' a' his ain, below the Lomond hill,
Richt glad to see his sheep again, his dookit, and his mill!

Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, though daft like he may be;
Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, he's just as wise as me;
Ye shouldna ca' the Laird daft, his bannet has a
bee
,-
He's just a wee bit Fifish, like some Fife Lairds that be.