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!”
“We'll make our maut, and we'll brew our drink,
We'll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man,
And monie braw thanks to the meikle black Deil,
That danc'd awa wi th' 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 Deil's awa wi th' Exciseman”.
The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa,
The Deil's awa wi th' Exciseman!
He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa,
He's danc'd awa wi th' Exciseman!
— Robert Burns, “The Deils's awa wi th' Exciseman” (1792)