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The Merchant's Son
Dr. Ross's 50th Welcome the Argyllshire Gathering
Traditional, arranged by the Tannahill Weavers

 
At last a blow for women's lib where, being short of a few bob, the young lady in question cons this rich young man out of his money and his clothes.

   A crafty girl I'll tell the world
   She winked at him for starters
   She wore a smile on rosie cheeks
   And mousetraps in her garters

LYRICS:

 A merchant's son he has lived in wrong, and tae the begging he has gone
And mounted on a noble steed, it's awa' wi' pleasure he did ride
Rantin antin an, rantin antin ae

A beggar wench he chanced to see, a beggar wench o' low degree
And he's ta'en pity on her distress, and says lass ye've got a pretty face
Rantin antin an, rantin antin ae

They both inclined then tae ha'e a drink, intae a public house they went
They drank stong ale aye and brandy too-o, until the both of them got roarin' fu'
Rantin antin an, rantin antin ae

They both inclined then tae go tae bed, soon under cover they were laid
Strong ale and brandy went to their head-o, until they both lay like they were dead
Rantin antin an, rantin antin ae

Early next morning the wench she rose, and she's put on now the merchant's clothes
We' his hat sae high and his sword sae dear-o, she's awa' wi' a' the merchants gear
Rantin antin an, rantin antin ae

And later on then the merchant rose, and he's looked roun' for tae find his clothes
There's naethin' left no' intae the room-o, but a petticoat and a wimsey goon
Rantin antin an, rantin antin ae


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