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Broadside ballad entitled 'A Cronie o' Mine'





Come saddle your bit neddy and ride your way down,
About a mile and a half to the next burgh town,
There's ane, an auld blacksmith, wi' Janet his wife,
And a queerer old cook ye ne'er seen in your life.

A cronie o'mine , a cronie o' mine,
He'll aye mak' ye welcome this cronie o' mine,

You'll find him, as I do, a trustworthly chiel;
Weel tempered wi' wit frae the toe tae the heel,
Wi' a soul in his body Auld Nick coldna blout.
And a spark in his throat?weel, it's ill to daw out,

A cronie o' mine, &c.

Up against the old gavel it's like yon may view
An auld trainless cart, or a coultreless plough,
. An auld teethless harrow, and breechin ring rent?
He'll mend boken gear when it's want to be ment.

A cronie o' mine &c.

There's an auld broken sign-board looks to the high road,
Will tell ilka rider where his ned may be shod;
But there's twa-three words that ye'll need to spell,
But ye needna fin' fault for he wroat it himsel,

                                           A cronie o' mine &c.

When ye find his auld smiddy it's like, there's nae doubt,

To see the inside o't as weel as the out,

Just slip ye in boldly although he be thrang,

Gi'e the gill-stoup a blatter, ye'll ken him ere lang.

                                       A cronie o' mine, &c.

There's twa three chiel's frae the town are sure to be there
There's a bald-headed butcher that aye tak's the chair,
'Mong the queerest auld fellows, wi' ane and anither,
That e er in tne world were a' clubbed thegither,

A cronie o' mine &c,

There's Dominie Davie; sae giib o   the mou'
But it's like ye will fin' the auld carl blind fou,
Wi' the wee barber body, wi' his wig fn' o' news,

Wha would shave ony chap a' week for the boose,

                                              A cronie o' mine &c,

There's out ain town clerk. who was ta'en to the tack,
He hae naething in gear to the hump on his back;
Wi' his wee bowly knees, and his spavey feet thrawn,
It's no easy telling the way he is gaun.

                                        A cronie o' mine &c,

There's Robin the ploughman wha's cramm'd fu 'o' fun,

Wi' gamekeeper Davie, wi' his big dog and gun:
and Willie, wha blythely the pipes can play on,

And you're sure to fa' in wi' the Miller o'Drone.

                                              A cronie o' mine.


It's come noo. my guld freen's gi'es a shake o' your hann,

The nicht's wearin ' on and we maunbe gaun;

The callan 'will bring doon your ned in a blink,

Before that you mount again let us drink,

             For ye are a cronie o' mine , a cronie o'mine,

            And we'll aye keep theither, a cronie o' mine,            

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Probable period of publication: 1880-1900   shelfmark: L.C.Fol.70(33a)
Broadside ballad entitled 'A Cronie o' Mine'
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