Изабел Пейган (Isabel Pagan)

Lament for the Herring

                Tune—Langolee

Woes me for the herring that stand in the barrel,
They're short in the fish, and they cannot well sell,
The people that see them, they make it a quarrel,
Indeed they're o'er many to keep to my sell.
If the merchant had known that he is a cruel villain,
And after this, from me he'll ne'er get a shilling,
If they do not sell, I'll send them back till him,
And punish him for that, if in Glasgow he dwell.

I will not blame J—h, for he is my well-wisher,
He'll do me no more harm, than he'll do himsel;
But, O, 'tis a pity, he look'd not the herring,
I'm sure he'll be troubled when he hears tell.
My friends in Muirkirk; they're a' very sorry,
All but taylor S—l, as 'tis that scolin's glory:
The loss will be mine, to conclude the story,
And black is my heart, if the herring don't sell.