the deil's awa wi' the exciseman
the deil cam fiddlin' thro' the town,
and danc'd awa wi' th' exciseman,
and ilka wife cries, “auld mahoun,
i wish you luck o' the prize, man.”
chorus—the deil's awa, the deil's awa,
the deil'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, and we'll brew our drink,