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'Aw 'm sayin', he remarked to Merton, 'you're no Lairdie Bower. 'Hear till the man! Aw 'm Tammy Hamilton, o' Moss End in Lanerick. Aw 'm ganging to see ma Jean. 'For day or night Ma fancy's flight Is ever wi' ma Jean Ma bonny, bonny, flat-footed Jean, sang Merton, gliding from the strains of Robert Burns into those of Mr. Boothby.
'Aw 'm saying, billie, aw 'm saying, remarked one of the roughs, thrusting his dirty beard into Merton's face. 'Weel, be saying, said Merton. 'You're no Lairdie Bower, ye ken, ye haena the neb o' him. 'And wha the deil said a was Lairdie Bower? Aw 'm a Lanerick man. Lairdie's at hame wi' a sair hoast, answered Merton. 'But ye're wearing Lairdie Bower's auld big coat. 'And what for no?
We can remember that some of the old Scotch Jacobite songs very sarcastic where German royal houses were concerned experienced a temporary revival, certainly more in jest than in earnest, and with a far higher appreciation of the fun than of the malice of the sentiment. The favourite was "The wee, wee German Lairdie," and began in this fashion:
George II of England was repudiated by most of them as a 'wee, wee German Lairdie. More than thirty thousand claymores flashed at the beck of Charles Edward, the Stuart prince, acclaimed as 'King o' the Highland hearts. When the uprising had been quelled and Charles Edward had become a fugitive with a price on his head, little consideration could be expected from the house of Hanover.
Ma auld tittie has dee'd and left me some siller, Merton dragged a handful of dirty notes out of his trousers pocket. 'I've been to see the auld Bowers, but Lairdie was on the shift. 'And ye're ganging to Embro? 'When we cam' into Embro Toon We were a seemly sicht to see; Ma luve was in the I dinna mind what ma luve was in 'And I ma'sel in cramoisie,
Lairdie has anither coat, a brawer yin, and he lent me the auld yin because the nichts is cauld, and I hae a hoast ma'sel! Div ye ken Lairdie Bower? I've been wi' his auld faither and the lasses half the day, but speakin's awfu' dry work. Here Merton repeated the bottle trick, and showed symptoms of going to sleep, his head rolling on to the shoulder of the rough.
Wha the Diel hae we gotten for a King, But a wee, wee German Lairdie? And when they gaed to bring him hame He was delvin' in his little kail-yardie. The last verse declared: He'a pu'ed the rose o'English blooms, He's broken the harp o'Irish, clowns, But Scotia's thistle will jag his thoomba, The wee, wee German Lairdie. A prophecy honoured in its entire breach.
What gars ye sing sae, birdie, As gien ye war lord o' the lift? On breid ye're an unco sma' lairdie, But in hicht ye've a kingly gift! A' ye hae to coont yersel rich in, 'S a wee mawn o' glory-motes! The whilk to the throne ye're aye hitchin Wi' a lang tow o' sapphire notes!
"O lassie, I juist set my braid hat ower my lug wi' the bonny white cockade intil't an' gied them 'The Wee, Wee German Lairdie' as they gaed doon the road, an' syne on the back o't: "'Awa, Whigs, awa'! Ye're but a pack " But the great plaid-swathed figure of Winsome's grandfather turned at the words of the long-forgotten song as though waking from a deep sleep.
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