Classic Poem

There liv'd a man in yonder glen,
And John Blunt was his name, O;
He maks gude maut, and he brews gude ale,
And he bears a wondrous fame, O. —

The wind blew in the hallan ae night,
Fu' snell out o'er the moor, O;
" Rise up, rise up, auld Luckie," he says,
" Rise up and bar the door, O." —

They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure, O,
Whae'er sud speak the foremost word,
Should rise and bar the door, O. —

Three travellers that had tint their gate,
As thro' the hills they foor, O,
They airted by the line o' light
Fu' straught to Johnie Blunt's door, O. —

They haurl'd auld Luckie out o' her bed,
And laid her on the floor, O;
But never a word auld Luckie wad say,
For barrin o' the door, O. —

" Ye've eaten my bread, ye hae druken my ale,
" And ye'll mak my auld wife a whore, O — "
Aha, Johnie Blunt! ye hae spoke the first word,
Get up and bar the door, O. —