Up an' Rin Awa', Geordie

Up an' rin awa', Geordie,
Up an' rin awa', Geordie,
For feint a stand in Cumberland
Your troops can mak ava, Geordie.
Your bauld militia are in qualms,
In ague fits an' a', Geordie,
And auntie Wade, wi' pick an' spade,
Is delving through the snaw, Geordie.
Up an' rin awa', Geordie, Lc.

The lads o' Westmoreland came up,
An' wow but they were braw, Geordie,
But took the spavie in their houghs,
An' limpit fast awa', Geordie.
O had ye seen them at their posts,
Wi' backs against the wa', Geordie,
Ye wad hae thought — It matters not —
Flee over seas awa', Geordie.

Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c.

These Highland dogs, wi' hose an' brogs,
They dree nae cauld at a', Geordie ;
Their hides are tann'd like Kendel bend,
An' proof to frost an' snaw, Geordie.
They dive like moudies in the yird,
Like squirrels mount a wa', Geordie ;
An' auld Carlisle, baith tower an' pile,
Has got a waesome fa', Geordie.

Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c.

Brave Sir John Pennington is fled,
An' Doctor Waugh an' a', Geordie;
And Humphrey Stenhouse he is lost,
And Aeron-bank's but raw, Geordie.
And Andrew Pattison's laid bye,
The prince of provosts a', Geordie ;
'Tis hard to thole, for gallant soul,
His frostit thumbs to blaw, Geordie.

Up an' rin awa', Geordie. &c.

Prince Charlie Stuart's ta'en the road,
As fast as he can ca', Geordie,
The drones to drive frae out the hive,
An' banish foreign law, Geordie.

He's o'er the Mersey, horse an' foot,
An' braid claymores an' a', Geordie ;
An' awsome forks, an' Highland durks,
An' thae's the warst of a', Geordie.

Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c.

I canna tell, ye ken yoursell,
Your faith, an' trust, an' a', Geordie ;
But 'tis o'er true your cause looks blue,
'Tis best to pack awa', Geordie.
An' ye maun tak your foreign bike,
Your Turks, an' queans, an' a', Geordie,
To pluff an' trig your braw new wig,
An' your daft pow to claw, Geordie,
Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c.

There's ae thing I had maist forgot,
Perhaps there may be twa, Geordie :
Indite us back, when ye gang hame,
How they received you a', Geordie.
An' tell us how the langkail thrive,
An' how the turnips raw, Geordie ;
An' how the seybos an' the leeks
Are brairding through the snaw, Geordie.
Up an' rin' awa', Geordie, &c.

That Hanover's a dainty place,
It suits you to a straw, Geordie ;
Where ane may tame a buxom dame,
An' chain her to a wa', Geordie.

An' there a man may burn his cap,
His hat, an' wig, an' a', Geordie;
They're a' sae daft, your scanty wits
Will ne'er be miss'd ava, Geordie.

Up an' rin awa', Geordie, &c.

You've lost the land o' cakes an' weir,
Auld Caledonia, Geordie;
Where fient a stand in a' the land,
Your Whigs can mak ava, Geordie.
Then tak leg-bail, an' fare-ye-weel,
Your motley group an' a', Geordie ;
There's mony a ane has rued the day
That ye cam here ava, Geordie.
Up an' rin awa', Geordie,
Up an' rin awa', Geordie,
For fient a stand in all England
Your Whigs dare mak ava, Geordie !