Sour Milk Cart, The

Broadside from National Library of Scotland, dated 1880-1900


DRIVIN' IN TAE GLESCA IN A SOUR MILK CAIRT.
This Popular Song can always be had at the Poet's Box.
224 Qvergate, Dundee

My name is Jemie Broon, an' I'm servin' at Polnoon,
A farmhoose near Eaglesham,that fine auld-fashioned toon-
Whaur wi' the milk ilk mornin', a wee while after three,
We tak, the road richt merrily,the auld black horse and me.
The ither mornin' early, as the " Borla", I did pass,
I chanced there to forgether wi' a winsome country lass;
When says I, my bonnie lass, if you're gaun that airt,
I'll drive ye in tae Glesca in a sour milk cairt.

Spoken - When he was helpin' me intae the cairt, he gies me a bit squeeze in the ribs, Says I, "My man keep yer remarks till ye're better acquainted"

I like the merry fellow wi' his een sae blue,
I like tae see him follow up the harrow and the ploo;
He fairly won my fancy, and stole away my heart,
Drivin' in tae Glesca in the sour milk cairt.

We cracked awa' richt cauntily, as side by side we sat,
An' wi' a blush she tell't me that her name was Maggie Watt
But when passin' by the water-fit, whaur the burn rins loud and clear,
I slipped my arm aroun' her waist an" spoke love in her ear,
I've heard of lords an' ladies makin' love in shady bowers,
An' hoo they wooed an' won among the roses an' the flowers
But I'll ne'er forget the morning that Cupid threw his dart,
An' made me pop the question in the sour milk cairt.

Noo she has consented, sae gin term time comes roun',
I mean tae buy the harness, plaid, an' braw new silken goon
We're settlin' tae get merrit jist about next August fair,
An' a' oor auld acquaintance, I hope tae see them there.
I never got a hurl inside a carriage a' my days,
Sae, when that I proposed tae get a coach an' pair o' grays,
Na, na, said she, oor siller's scarce, ye, ken we canna spare' t,
Lod, I'd rither hae the jilting o' the sour milk cairt

Spoken - He was weighing out the butter, when the horse gien a bit stammer. Oh, my ! ye should hae seen me; I gaed richt head ower heels slap bang richt in amang the butter. "Oh," Jemie, look at yer butter." "Oh," says he, "never mind the butter, Maggie; that's jist the way twa loving hearts should gae thegither. We're gane tae get merrit noo, we're gane tae get a gran' spree; ye can a' come an bring yer sin tea an' sugar.But for a' that-.         

A Scottish Music Hall song which has passed into traditional Irish and Scottish singing. Most sources suggest it was written by Thomas (Tom) Johnstone for “Scotch comic” JC Macdonald.

I have limited information about Johnstone – its summarised in a Mudcat thread, quoting the sleevenotes of Scots Ballads Songs & Dance Tunes, an LP by The Clutha released in 1974:

The words of this song were written by Tom Johnstone (1850-1911), otherwise known as ‘The Calton Barber Poet’ or ‘Figaro’. Johnstone established a barber’s shop in Abercrombie Street, Calton, Glasgow, during the early 1870s, and about the same period he also became well-known as a songwriter. His shop became a mecca for music-hall artistes, who could rely on Tom to speedily manufacture a song on any subject which took their fancy. Tom had a house in Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, where he spent his week-ends. On Monday mornings he was in the habit of obtaining a lift into Glasgow on the milk-cart which left Eaglesham at 3 o’clock. The song was based on a real romance between Dan Steel, the cart driver, and Maggie Watt. The words were originally published in a Glasgow weekly periodical ‘The Professional and Authors’ Journal’ which printed many music-hall songs. The tune is an adaptation of the Irish The Garden where the praties grow.

Sleevenotes, Topic 12TS242, quoted on Mudcat

The existence of a song-writer called Thomas Johnstone writing for the Halls at that time is confirmed by a handful of mentions in The Era, including: