Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Wee, Wee German Lairdie

For other versions of this work, see The Wee Wee German Lairdie.
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The Wee, Wee German Lairdie.
Wha the deil hae we gotten for a king, But a wee, wee German lairdie?And, when we gaed to bring him hame, He was delving in his kail-yardie:Sheughing kail, and laying leeks,But the hose, and but the breeks;And up his beggar duds he cleeks; This wee, wee German lairdie.
And he's clapt down in our gudeman's chair, The wee, wee German lairdie;And he's brought fouth o' foreign leeks, 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-tap will jag his thumbs, This wee, wee German lairdie.
Come up amang our Highland hills, Thou wee, wee German lairdie;And see the Stuarts' lang kail thrive, We dibbled in our yardie; ​And if a stock ye dare to pu', Or baud the yoking o' a plough,We'll break your sceptre o'er 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 dongs 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 hae we gotten for a king But a wee, wee German lairdie?

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