Songs to live by

By all accounts my grandpa was a skillful grandfather. He had a wealth of songs (some made up, some embellished, some invented) that have been passed on. I remember him whistling bagpipe tunes, doing magic tricks, and coming up with nonsense rhymes. I've been thinking a lot about the songs that he sang, and which my mother sang to us as well. We're not entirely sure how much was of his own invention, how much of it he learned in the army, and how much he was just repeating. Family history is murky at the best of times. Looking the lyrics up on the internet has turned up some variations as well, which are funny to see.

I would just hate to see any of it be lost. So here are some of the songs I can remember:

An Old Maid in A Garrett
Oh I've often heard it said
By my father and my mother,
Going to a wedding's the making of another.
If that be true then I'll gang without a bidding,

You ken wee Elize?
I found her in a midden,
Singing "Oh, dear me".
What will you do if I be an old maid in a garrett?

There was my sister, Juanita,
She was handsome and goodlooking,
Scarcely sixteen, and a laddie she was courting,
Now she's twenty-four,
With a son and a daughter,
And I am forty-two and I've never had an offer
Singing "Oh, dear me".
What will you do if I be an old maid in a garrett?

I can wash, I can sew, I can keep a household tidy,
Rise early in the morning, and make the breakfast ready.
There's nothing in this wide world, would make me half so cheery,
If some nice young man would call me his wee dearie singing "Oh, dear me".
What will you do if I be an old maid in a garrett?
(Without a shirt)

Without a shirt was the traditional ending to any song Grandpa happened to be singing. I don't know why, it was just one of those things. Also, I lay no claim to the inherently sexist lyrics, I am simply repeating the words. They amuse me deeply.

Mummy says
Mummy says, out you go
With your father's dinner-o
Champit tatties, beef and steak,
And a wee bit corn cake.

Came to a river and I couldn't get across,
Paid ten bob for an old blind horse,
Jumped on his back and his bones gave a crack,
Played on the fiddle till the boat came back,

The boat came back,
and we all jumped in,
Boat capsized
And we all fell in

Singing don't be weary,
Try be cheery,
Don't be weary,
for we're all going home,

My father was a fisherman
And he caught a trout,
Says I to the trout:
"Does your mother know your out?"

Singing don't be weary,
Try be cheery,
Don't be weary
for we're all going home
(Without a shirt)

I always liked this one, but The Sister doesn't. Probably because of the horse's bones cracking!

McCann
I'll knock a hole in McCann,
for knocking a hole in me can.
McCann knew,
me can was new,
and only in use for a day or two.

I lent me can to old McCann
to go for a can of stout.
McCann came running home and said
me can was running out!

I actually don't know if this was one of Grandpa's. The Mother may have learned this at Guides. The Family Songbook has much to thank the Guides for; many of our ditties came from them.

It's strange but nice knowing that my grandpa taught my mother these songs, she taught them to us, we'll teach them to our kids. I'm sure my cousins remember them as well. It connects us, even though we don't know each other. If anybody remembers all the words to The Parcel that came to McRory, please send up a flag!