THE STOUTEST MAN IN THE FORTY TWA
cho: The wind may blaw, the cock may craw,
The rain may rain, and the snaw may snaw
But ye winna frichten Jock McGraw,
He's the stoutest man in the Forty Twa
The sergeant when he 'listed me, he winked his e'e and then says he,
"A man like you so stout and tall can ne'er be killed by a cannon ball!"
The captain then when he cam' roon, he looked me up and he looked me doon,
Then turning tae the sergeant said, "Awa' ye scamp, ye've 'listed the
bleachfield oot on tramp!"
At oor last fecht across the sea, the general he sends efter me
Fan I gaed there and my big gun, of course the battle it was won.
The enemy a' ran awa', they were feart at the legs o'Jock McGraw
A man like me so tall and neat, ye ken yersel' he could niver be beat.
The King then held a grand review, we numbered a thoosand and sixty-two;
The kiltie lads cam' marchin' past and Jock McGraw cam' marchin' last
The royal party grabbed their sticks an' a' began tae stretch their necks
Cries the King tae the Colonel, " Upon my soul, I took that man for a
telegraph pole."
From The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall
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THE STOUTEST MAN IN THE FORTY TWA
cho: The wind may blaw, the cock may craw,
The rain may rain, and the snaw may snaw
But ye winna frichten Jock McGraw,
He's the stoutest man in the Forty Twa
The sergeant when he 'listed me, he winked his e'e and then says he,
"A man like you so stout and tall can ne'er be killed by a cannon ball!"
The captain then when he cam' roon, he looked me up and he looked me doon,
Then turning tae the sergeant said, "Awa' ye scamp, ye've 'listed the
bleachfield oot on tramp!"
At oor last fecht across the sea, the general he sends efter me
Fan I gaed there and my big gun, of course the battle it was won.
The enemy a' ran awa', they were feart at the legs o'Jock McGraw
A man like me so tall and neat, ye ken yersel' he could niver be beat.
The King then held a grand review, we numbered a thoosand and sixty-two;
The kiltie lads cam' marchin' past and Jock McGraw cam' marchin' last
The royal party grabbed their sticks an' a' began tae stretch their necks
Cries the King tae the Colonel, " Upon my soul, I took that man for a
telegraph pole."
From The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall
cho: The wind may blaw, the cock may craw,
The rain may rain, and the snaw may snaw
But ye winna frichten Jock McGraw,
He's the stoutest man in the Forty Twa
The sergeant when he 'listed me, he winked his e'e and then says he,
"A man like you so stout and tall can ne'er be killed by a cannon ball!"
The captain then when he cam' roon, he looked me up and he looked me doon,
Then turning tae the sergeant said, "Awa' ye scamp, ye've 'listed the
bleachfield oot on tramp!"
At oor last fecht across the sea, the general he sends efter me
Fan I gaed there and my big gun, of course the battle it was won.
The enemy a' ran awa', they were feart at the legs o'Jock McGraw
A man like me so tall and neat, ye ken yersel' he could niver be beat.
The King then held a grand review, we numbered a thoosand and sixty-two;
The kiltie lads cam' marchin' past and Jock McGraw cam' marchin' last
The royal party grabbed their sticks an' a' began tae stretch their necks
Cries the King tae the Colonel, " Upon my soul, I took that man for a
telegraph pole."
From The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall