The Dominie is growin’ grey,
And, feth, he’s keepit thrang
Wi’ counts and spellin’ a’ the day,
And liffies when they’re wrang.
He dauners out at nine o’clock,
He dauners hame at four
Frae twal to ane to eat and smoke —
And sae his day is owre!
Oh! Leezie, Leezie, fine and easy
Is a job like yon-
A’ Saturday at gowf to play,
And aye the pay gaun on!
And when the burn comes doun in spate.
And troots are taken weel,
To tak’ a day he isna blate,
Syne marches aff wi’s creel.
His garden, it has ne’er a weed.
His tatties are a’ soun’,
The laddies needna fash to read
As lang’s they delve his grun’.
Oh! Leezie, Leezie, fine and easy
Is a job like yon—
Weel or ill he’s maister still.
And aye the pay gaun on!
When winter days are cauld and dark,
And dykes are deep wi’ snaw,
And bairns are shiverin’ owre their wark,
He shuts the shop at twa;
And when it comes to Hogmanay,
And fun comes roarin’ ben,
And ilka dog maun tak’ a day,
The Dominic tak’s ten!
Oh! Leezie, Leezie, fine and easy
Is a job like yon-
To stop the mill whene’er you will,
And aye the pay gaun on!
And when Inspectors gi’e a ca’,
He tak’s them roun’ to dine,
And aye the upshot o’ it a’-
‘The bairns are daein’ fine!’
And sae the ‘Board’ come smirkin’ roun’,
Wi’ prizes in their haun’;
And sync it’s frae the end o’ June
Until the Lord kens whan!
Oh! Leezie, Leezie, fine and easy
Is a job like yon —
Sax weeks to jaunt and gallivant,
And aye the pay gaun on!
