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Updated: May 8, 2025
Baron of Bucklivie, May the foul fiend drive ye, And a' to pieces rive ye, For building sic a town, Where there's neither horse meat, Nor man's meat, Nor a chair to sit down. Scottish Popular Rhymes on a bad Inn. The night was pleasant, and the moon afforded us good light for our journey.
Baron of Bucklivie, May the foul fiend drive ye, And a' to pieces rive ye, For building sic a town, Where there's neither horse meat, Nor man's meat, Nor a chair to sit down. Scottish Popular Rhymes on a bad Inn. The night was pleasant, and the moon afforded us good light for our journey.
But ye maunna expect me to gang ower the Hieland line I'll gae beyond the line at no rate. Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of Aberfoil, and dinna forget the needful." "Nae fear nae fear," said Campbell; "I'll be as true as the steel blade that never failed its master.
Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of Aberfoil, and dinna forget the needful." "Nae fear nae fear," said Campbell; "I'll be as true as the steel blade that never failed its master. But I must be budging, cousin, for the air o' Glasgow tolbooth is no that ower salutary to a Highlander's constitution."
Ye maun meet me about Bucklivie or the Clachan of Aberfoil, and dinna forget the needful." "Nae fear nae fear," said Campbell; "I'll be as true as the steel blade that never failed its master. But I must be budging, cousin, for the air o' Glasgow tolbooth is no that ower salutary to a Highlander's constitution."
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