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