Ewan MacColl — The Wee German Lairdee

Wha' the deil hae we gotten for a king But a wee, wee German lairdee And when we gaed to bring him hame He was delving in his yardie Shenghing kail and laying leeks But the hose and but the breeks And up his beggar duds he cleeks This wee, wee German lairdee And he's clapt doun in our guidman's chair The wee, wee German lairdie; And he's brought fourth o' foreign trash And dibbled them in his yardie He's pu'd the rose o' English loons And broken the harp o' Irish clowns; But our thistle taps will jag his thumbs - This wee, wee German lairdie Come up amang our Highland hills Thou wee, wee German lairdie And see how the Stuarts! langekail thrivе They dibbled in our yardie: And if a stock yе dare to pu’ Or haud the yoking o' a plough We'll break your sceptre ower your mou! Thou wee bit German lairdie Our hills are steep, our glens are deep Nae fitting for a yardie; And our Norland thistles winna pu' Thou wee bit German lairdie: And we've the trenching blades o' weir Wad prune ye o' your German gear - We'll pass ye 'neath the claymore's shear Thou feckless German lairdie! Auld Scotland, thou'rt ower cauld a hole For nursin' siccan vermin; But the very dogs o' England's court They bark and howl in German Then keep thy dibble in thy ain hand Thy spade but and thy yardie; For wha the deil now claims your land But a wee, wee German lairdie?