THERE liv'd a man in yonder glen,
And John Blunt was his name, O;
He make gude maut, and he brews gude ale,
And he bears a wondrous fame, O.----

The wind blew in the hallan ae night,
Fu' snell out o'er the moor, O;
' Rise up, rise up, auld Luckie' he says,
' Rise up and bar the door, O.'------

They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure, O,
Whae'er sud speak the foremost word,
Should rise and bar the door, O.------

Three travellers that had tint their gate,
As thro' the hills they foor, O,
They airted by the line o' light
Fu' straught to Johnie Blunt's door, O.------

They haurl'd auld Luckie out o' her bed,
And laid her on the floor, O;
But never a word auld Luckie wad say,
For barrin o' the door, O.------

' Ye've eaten my bread, ye hae druken my ale,
And ye'll mak my auld wife a whore. O--------'
Aha, Johnie Blunt! ye hae spoke the first word,
Get up and bar the door. O.---