Come all ye true-born Glasgow boys,
and listen to my song.
I'm going to speak of Hogmanay,
it won't detain you long.
I've made this little tune for you,
I've laid it on my whistle.
And I think the name I'll give to it,
is The Shamrock and The Thistle.
Well aboard the Royal Ulsterman,
we had a dram or twa.
When daylight broke, we all awoke
And saw the Broomielaw
The journey o'er, we went ashore.
Our friends all raised a cheer.
And soon the word was going 'round:
The Irishmen are here.
We were not rash, we wore no sash,
we sang no party lay.
But we had come to join the fun,
A real Scotch Hogmanay.
We marched up to Argyle Street
bought whiskey, sours and rum.
And the songs we sang, were Sweet Strabane,
and Britain Here We Come.
a welcome rare, we soon got there,
it was a glorious fair.
Little Thompson cried, "Get that inside,
I see you're needing fare."
So when we'd had a clay to that,
and feeling in good trim,
Bill said "come on, I'm for the Crom,"
so we went along with him.
Now many's the hoolie we've been at,
when at home, across the see.
And at new year, with stout and beer,
We go upon the sweet.
And the Scotts the don't just make whoopie,
and drink with mum and dad,
For on the 31st of December, boys,
The all go raving mad.
Forgive me friends for being rude,
I'm not, you will agree,
The Irish too, are a crazy crew
Just look at Bob and me.
For a Scotsman seeing the New Year in,
Is a sight for gods and men,
And it take an Irish paddy, boys,
to be equal to him then.
For the Scotsmen have their thistle, and,
the Welshmen have their leek,
the English have, their rose, me boys,
and lots of flaming sheep,
The Irish have the shamrock, and,
They hold it very dear,
But you'll find it with the thistle, men,
and listen to my song.
I'm going to speak of Hogmanay,
it won't detain you long.
I've made this little tune for you,
I've laid it on my whistle.
And I think the name I'll give to it,
is The Shamrock and The Thistle.
Well aboard the Royal Ulsterman,
we had a dram or twa.
When daylight broke, we all awoke
And saw the Broomielaw
The journey o'er, we went ashore.
Our friends all raised a cheer.
And soon the word was going 'round:
The Irishmen are here.
We were not rash, we wore no sash,
we sang no party lay.
But we had come to join the fun,
A real Scotch Hogmanay.
We marched up to Argyle Street
bought whiskey, sours and rum.
And the songs we sang, were Sweet Strabane,
and Britain Here We Come.
a welcome rare, we soon got there,
it was a glorious fair.
Little Thompson cried, "Get that inside,
I see you're needing fare."
So when we'd had a clay to that,
and feeling in good trim,
Bill said "come on, I'm for the Crom,"
so we went along with him.
Now many's the hoolie we've been at,
when at home, across the see.
And at new year, with stout and beer,
We go upon the sweet.
And the Scotts the don't just make whoopie,
and drink with mum and dad,
For on the 31st of December, boys,
The all go raving mad.
Forgive me friends for being rude,
I'm not, you will agree,
The Irish too, are a crazy crew
Just look at Bob and me.
For a Scotsman seeing the New Year in,
Is a sight for gods and men,
And it take an Irish paddy, boys,
to be equal to him then.
For the Scotsmen have their thistle, and,
the Welshmen have their leek,
the English have, their rose, me boys,
and lots of flaming sheep,
The Irish have the shamrock, and,
They hold it very dear,
But you'll find it with the thistle, men,