THE thing they ca' the stimy o't,
I find it ilka where!
Ye 'maist lie deid—an unco shot—
Anither's ba' is there!
Ye canna win into the hole,
However gleg ye be,
And aye, where'er ma ba' may roll,
Some limmer stimies me!

Chorus:
Somebody stimying me,
Somebody stimying me,
The grass may grow, the ba' may row
Some limmer stimies me!

I lo'ed a lass, a bonny lass,
Her lips an' locks were reid;
Intil her heart I couldna pass:
Anither man lay deid!
He cam' atween me an' her heart,
I turned wi' tearfu' e'e;
I couldna loft him, I maun part
The limmer stimied me!

I socht a kirk, a bonny kirk,
Wi' teind, an' glebe, an' a';
A bonny yaird to feed a stirk,
An' links to ca' the ba'!
Anither lad he cam' an' fleeched—
A convartit U.P. —
An' a' in vain ma best I preached,
That limmer stimied me!




It's aye the same in life an' gowf;
I'm stimied, late an' ear';
This world is but a weary howf,
I'd fain be itherwhere.
But whan auld deith wad hole ma corp,
As sure as deith ye'll see
Some coof has played the moudiewarp,
Rin in, an' stimied me!

Chorus (if thought desirable)

Andrew Lang

Selected by the Scottish Poetry Library