(The fattest man in the Forty-Twa)
A Scotch humorous song, 1908
words and music by Harry Linn
arranged by Charles W. Curtiss
The sheet music:
Accompaniment by Fred Feild:
Lyrics
- Behold in me a soldier bold
And only twenty-five years old,
A braver warrior ne’er was seen,
Frae Inverness tae Gretna Green,
When I was young my faither said,
He’d put me tae a decent trade,
I didna like hard work at a’
So left and join’d the Forty-Twa.
Chorus
The wind may blaw and the cock may craw,
The rain may rain and the snaw may snaw,
Ye couldna frichten John Macraw,
The fattest man in the Forty-Twa.
- The sergeant when he ‘listed me,
He winked his e’e and then says he,
“A man like you sae stoot and tall,
Could n’er be killed by cannon-ball.”
The Captain then tae me came roun’
He looked me up and looked me doon,
And shouts “Here sergeant, why, you scamp,
You’ve found a lamp-post out on tramp.”
- In oor last fecht across the sea,
The Gen’ral he sent hame for me,
When I went there wi’ my big gun
Of course the battle it was won.
The enemy a’ ran awa’
When they saw the legs o’ John Macraw,
A man like me sae smart and neat
Ye ken yersel could n’er be beat.
- The King then held a Grand Review,
We mustered sixty thoosand too,
The Kilty Lads went trotting past
And John Macraw, he marched the last,
The Royal Party grabb’d their spec’s
And they began to stretch their necks,
The King cries “Col’nel!’pon my soul!
I took that man for a telegraph pole.
Sung here by Vancha March: