Chorus
A guid New Year to ane an’ a’
An’ mony may ye see,
An’ during a’ the years to come,
O happy may ye be.

O time flies past, he winna wait,
My friend for you or me,
He works his wonders day by day,
And onward still doth flee.
O wha can tell when ilka ane,
I see sae happy here,
Will meet again and merry be
Anither guid New year.

Chorus

We twa ha’e baith been happy lang.
We ran about the braes.
In yon wee cot beneath the tree,
We spent our early days.
We ran about the burnie’s side,
The spot will aye be dear,
An’those that used to meet us there,
We’ll think on mony a year.

Chorus

Noo let us hope our years may be
As guid as they ha’e been,
And trust we ne’er again may see,
The sorrows we ha’e seen.
And let us wish that ane an’a’
Our friends baith far an’ near,
May aye enjoy in times to come
A hearty guid New year!

Chorus

There was a troop o Irish Dragoons
Cam marchin doon through Fyvie-o,
An their captain’s fa’n in
love wi a very bonnie lass,
An her name it was ca’d pretty Peggy-o.

Noo there’s mony a bonnie lass in the Howe o Auchterless,
There’s mony a bonnie lass in the Garioch-o,
There’s mony a bonnie Jean in the toon o Aiberdeen,
But the flooer o them a is in Fyvie-o.

O’ it’s come doon the stair, pretty Peggy, my dear
O’ come doon the stair, pretty Peggy-o,
O’ come doon the stair, kame back your yellow hair,
Tak a last fareweel a your daddy-o.

It’s braw, aye, it’s braw a captain’s lady tae be,
It’s braw tae be a captain’s lady-o
It’s braw tae rant an rove an the follow at his word,
An tae march when your captain is ready-o

But the Colonel he cries. ‘Now mount, boys, mount!’
The captain he cries ‘O, tarry-o,
O gang nae awa for anither day or twa,
Till we see if this bonnie lass will marry-o.

It was early next mornin that we rode awa,
An oh, but oor captain was sorry o.
The drums they did beat ower the bonnie braes a Gight
An the band played The Lowlands o Fyvie-o.

Lang ere we wan intae auld Meldrum toon
It’s we had oor captain tae carry-o,
An lang ere we wan intae bonnie Aiberdeen,
It’s we had oor captain tae bury-o.

Green growe the birks upon bonnie Ythanside
An low lies the lawlands o Fyvie-o,
The captain’s name was Ned an he died for a maid,
He died for the bonnie lass a Fyvie-o.

Chorus
Luntin addie, turin addie,
Luntin addie turin ae
Luntin lowrin’ lowrin’ lowrin’,
The barnyards o’Delgaty!

2.
He promised me the aye best horse
That iver I set my een upon
But when I gat t’his barnyard,
There’s naethin’ there but skin and bone.

Chorus

3.
The auld black horse sat on her rump,
Th’ auld grey mare sat on her wime
And fer all I’d whup an’ crack,
They wouldna rise at yokin’ time

Chorus

4.
When I gang doon tae Kirk on Sunday,
Many’s th’ bonny lass I see
Sittin’ by her father’s side,
Winkin’ o’er th’ pews at me!

Chorus

5.
Oh I can drink and no be drunk,
And I can fecht an’ no be slaun,
And I can lie wi’ another man’s lass
And still be welcome tae my ane!

Chorus

6.
Noo me cannle is brunt oot,
Me snotter’s fairly on the wane,
Fare-ye-weel ye Barnyards:
Ye’ll niver catch me here again!
Chorus

Fan I wis barely twal year auld I left the parish squeel,
Ma faither fee’d me to the Mains to chaw his milk and meal.
First I put on ma nairra breeks ti hap ma spinnel trams,
An’ happit roun ma knappin knees a pair o’ Nicky Tams.

It’s first I gaed on for baillie’s loon an’ syne I gaed on for third.
An’ syne of course I had to get the horseman’s grip and word.
A loaf o’ breid to be ma piece, a bottle for drinking drams.
- Ye canna win throw the cauf-hoose door athout yuir Nicky Tams.

The fermer I am wi’ the noo, he’s wealthy but he’s mean,
Tho’ corn’s cheap his horse’s thin, his harnesss nearly deen.
He gars us load oor cairts owre fu’, his conscience has nae qualms,
Fan breist-straps brek, there’s naething like a pair o’ Nicky Tams.

I’m coortin’ bonnie Annie noo, Rab Tamson’s kitchie deem,
She is five-an’-forty and I’m but seventeen.
She clorts a muckle piece to me wi’ different kinds o’ jams,
An’ tells me ilka nicht that she admires ma Nicky Tams.

Ae mornin’ I pit on ma claes the kirkie for to gang,
My collar it wis unco ticht, ma breeks were nane owre lang;
I had ma Bible in ma haund, likewise ma buik o’ Psalms,
Fan Annie roars, “Ye muckle gyte, tak aff yuir Nicky Tams!”

Tho’ unco sweir, I took them aff, the lassie for to please,
But aye ma breeks they lurkit up aroon aboot ma knees.
A wasp gaed crawlin’ up ma leg in the middle o’ the Psalms,
- Never again will I rig the kirk without ma Nicky Tams.

I’ve often thocht I’d like to be a bobbie on the Force,
Or maybe just a tramwayman an’ drive a pair o’ horse,
Fatever it’s ma fate to be, a bobbie or on the trams,
I’ll never forget the happy days I wore ma Nicky Tams.

The Broch

Inverallochy in the distance

Mormond hill