( 411 ) 

 THE LAIRD O' M'NAB. 



THE Laird o' M'Nab, lie is stalwart and stout, 

 He 's the wonder and wale o' the land round about ; 

 For a hero a Greek, for an heiress a g % rab ; 

 Have you never heard tell o' the Laird o' M'Nab ? 



The big Irish giant was slender and slim, 

 Goliah of Gath but a pigmy to him : 

 The brawny M'Gregor, the red-headed Rab 

 An infant, in fact to the Laird o' M'Nab. 



Just look to his legs, round each sinewy calf 

 He measures, good measure, a foot and a half; 

 Round the calf of the whole, I have heard in confab, 

 A greater ne'er grazed than the Laird o' M'Nab. 



His eye would set fire to the Thames or the sea, 

 His oily voice wile the wild bird from the tree ; 

 For the eloquent eye and the gift o' the gab, 

 There ne'er was the like o' the Laird o' M'Nab. 



No chief of Clan Alpine hath ever displayed 



A figure so fit for the plume and the plaid ; 



E'en in water-proof beaver, and doublet of drab 



Irresistible still is the Laird o' M'Nab ! 



So powerful a frame, and so perfect a form, 



Ne'er bore 'gainst the blast, ne'er stood to the storm ; 



So knitted by nature in waft and in wab, 



Yet so polished by art as the Laird o' M'Nab. 



Wherever he treads there 's a groan from the ground ; 

 When he dances, the very stone-walls shake around ; 

 He 's a lift for a crane, he 's a load for a cab, 

 The broad, brawny fallow, the Laird o' M'Nab. 



He 's a man, if the women but look on, they love, 

 And sore hearts are sighing in glen and in grove. 

 There is one I could name, if a body might blab, 

 Is dying of love for the Laird o' M'Nab ! 



For accomplishments, ladies ! what more could you wish ? 

 He can dance like a bear, he can drink like a fish ; 

 He can smoke, he can snuff, and of pigtail a dab 

 Ever soaks in the delicate cheek of M'Nab ! 



M'Nab before Noah tracks six score of sires, 

 Counts kin with dukes, marquises, barons, and squires, 

 Let the Border Buccleugh vaunt his. doughty dad Hab, 

 There were hundreds like him in the line of M'Nab ! 



Where lie his possessions, so fertile and fair ? 

 In the island of Skye and the county of Ayr. 

 Their heritage held since the reign of Queen Mab, 

 Who granted the same to the Lairds of M'Nab. 



Then we '11 drink to the first to the last of his line ; 

 We '11 drink it in whisky, we '11 drink it in wine ; 

 And we '11 drink it in swipes, were they sour as a crab, 

 Long life and a wife to the Laird o' M'Nab ! 



MATT. MICAIAH, 



