_Tugal M‘Tagger._

[This piece sometimes appears in old chap-books under the heading of Dugald M‘Taggart, no doubt the proper name of the hero, but it is one that scarcely fits the rhyme. The reading here used is sustained by usage, and has the further advantage of being--shall we say?--more euphonious. M‘Vean attributes the song to Graham. It was probably composed about the year 1772, on the occasion of the passing of the first Sequestration Act, 12 Geo. III., c. 72. The following is reprinted from an old broadside version long popular in Glasgow. The air is given as--‘The Hills of Glendoo.’]

TUGAL M‘TAGGER.

Would you’ll know me, my name it is Tugal M‘Tagger, She’ll brought hersel’ down frae the braes o’ Lochaber, To learn her nainsel’ to be praw haberdabber, Or fine linen-draber, the tane or the twa.

She’ll being a stranger, she’ll look very shy-like: She’s no weel acquaint wi’ your laigh kintra dialect; But hoogh! never heed, she’s got plenty o’ Gaelic-- She comes frae ta house at the fit o’ Glendoo.

[But her kilt she’ll exchange for ta praw tandy trowser, An’ she’ll learn to ta lady to scrap an’ to pow, sir, An’ say to ta shentlemans--How did you’ll do, sir? An’ ten she’ll forget her poor friens at Glendoo.

An’ when she’ll pe spoket the laigh kintra jabber, She’ll gi’e hersel’ out for ta Laird o’ Lochaber, Shust come for amusements to turn haberdabber, For tat will pe prawer tan herding ta cow.]

She’ll got a big shop, an’ she’ll turn’d a big dealer; She was caution hersel’, for they’ll no sought no bailer, But Tugal M‘Tagger hersel’ mak’s a failure-- They’ll call her a bankrumpt, a trade she’ll not know.

They’ll called a great meeting, she’ll look very quate now, She’ll fain win awa’, but they’ll tell her to wait now; They’ll spoket a lang time, ’pout a great estate now: She’ll thocht that they’ll thocht her the laird o’ Glendoo.

They’ll wrote a long while about a trust deeder, She’ll no write a word, for hersel’ couldna read her, They’ll sought compongzition, hoogh, hoogh, never heed her-- There’s no sic a word ’mang the hills o’ Glendoo.

But had she her durk, hersel’ would devour them, They’ll put her in jail when she’ll stood there before them; But faith she’ll got out on a hashimanorum, And now she’s as free as the win’s on Glendoo.