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Poem by James Hogg Athol Cummers Duncan lad, blaw the bummers! Play we round the Athol Cummers, A’the din o’ a’the drummers Canna rouse like Athol Cummers. When I’m dowie, weet, or weary, Soch my heart grows light an’cheery, When I hear the sprightly num’ers Of my dear, my Athol Cummers. Duncan lad, etc When the fickle lasses vex me; When the cares of life perples me; When I’m fley’d wi’frightfu’rumours, Then I cry for Athol Cummers. Duncan lad, etc ‘Tis a cure for a’disasters; Kebbit ewes, an’crabbit masters; Driftly nights, an’dripping summers, A’my joy is Athol Cummers. Duncan lad, etc Athol banks and braes are bonny, Fairer nane in Caledony; But a’her woods, an’sweetest summers, Canna please like Athol Cummers. Duncan lad, etc James Hogg James Hogg's other poems: 1697 Views |
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