Classic Poem

The de'il cam' fiddling through the town,
An' danced awa' wi' the Exciseman,
And ilka wife cries--"Auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o' the prize, man!"
The de'il's awa', the de'il's awa',
The de'il's awa' wi' the Exciseman;
He's danc'd awa', he's danc'd awa',
He's danc'd awa' wi' the Exciseman!

We'll mak' our maut, we'll brew our drink,
We'll dance, an' sing, an' rejoice, man;
And mony braw thanks to the meikle black de'il
That danc'd awa' wi' the Exciseman.
The de'il's awa', the de'il's awa',
The de'il's awa' wi' the Exciseman;
He's danc'd awa', he's danc'd awa',
He's danc'd awa' wi' the Exciseman.

There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels,
There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man;
But the ae best dance e'er cam' to the land
Was--the de'il's awa' wi' the Exciseman.
The de'il's awa', the de'il's awa',
The de'il's awa' wi' the Exciseman;
He's danc'd awa', he's danc'd awa',
He's danc'd awa' wi' the Exciseman.