[Written   for   a   gentleman   in   Liverpool,   and   sung   at   the   Annual   Re-union   of   Scotchmen   held on   St.   Andrew's   day   in   Liverpool.   On   this   day   the   Liverpool   Scotchmen   walked   in   procession through   some   of   the   principal   streets,   before   sitting   down   to   a   banquet   :   they   were   often accompanied   by   a   number   of   Scotch   ladies,   and   every   person   in   the   procession   had   part   of their dress, if not a plaid, of tartan. This poem was written in November, 1818.]
CALEDONIA
The Village of Chryston - North Lanarkshire - Scotland
Chryston
Walter Watson
The Chryston Poet
The year's gaun dwindlin' fast awa', The norlan' breezes sharply blaw, An' mountains taps are o'er wi' snaw,    Whaur heather bloom'd sae bonnie, O. The flowers frae ilka field are fled, The woods ha'e lost their fragrant shade, Now we'll fling on the tartan plaid,    The hap o' Caledonia. Our bloomin' maids, sae fair, sae gay, Wha walk the streets in rich array, Their chequer'd native garb display.    As neat, as braw as ony, O. The herdsman lad that climbs the hill Whaur growlin' Winter gets his will, Wi' tartan plaid an' Highlan' gill,    Sings loud in Caledonia. Tho' Fortune's placed us here awhile, Whaur bustlin' Commerce wear's a smile, Back tae auld Scotia's frien'ly isle,    Our thochts are kin' an' mony, O. We're met as brethren in good cheer, This festive day, tae honour here A day that ever shall be dear    Tae sons o' Caledonia. Let cracks gae roun', an' sangs be sung, In our auld kin'ly mither tongue, Till heels o'er head auld Care be flung    By ilka social crony, O. Let honour guide our steps alang, Whaure'er we ha'e a fit tae gang, Now wi' this toast I'll en' my sang-    "Our frien's in Caledonia."