I caught a fish as big as a bairn On my fiercely knotted twine With a strangely narrow grin And gold and murrey shingles On his crooked skin We named him Wolseley Wollstonecraft (Or Little Wol for short) Mother found a kilt to wrap him in While he sang of seas like deserts Shone glamours on the ceiling Of the church of Kirkcudbright Where we took him to the market To buy a tansy crown Arbuthnot offered sixpence For a half a pound He’s our bonny skirling lad A prince of seas renowned We’ll not be having less than A mutchkin for a stane Mam though in thee I did abide You’ll not sell my fish-child’s song We fled all through the lowering town The crowd an angry gathered throng And from high the heather and tansy crag Fell ere far and long Little Wol away to swim And I alas the river Dee to drown
