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NEIL GOW’S FAREWELL.
You’ve surely heard o’ famous Neil,
The man that play’d the fiddle weel,
I wat he was a canty chiel,
And dearly loo’d the whisky, O.
And ay since he wore tartan hose,
He dearly loo’d the Athol brose;
And wae was he, you may suppose,
To play fareweel to whisky, O.
Alake, quoth Neil, I’m frail and auld,
And find my bluid grows unco cauld;
I think ‘twad mak me blythe and bauld,
A wee drap Highland whisky, O.
And yet the doctors a’ agree
That whisky’s no the drink for me;
Saul! quoth Neil, ’twill spoil my glee,
Shou’d they part me and whisky, O.
Tho’ I can get baith wine and ale,
And find my head and fingers hale,
I’ll be content, tho’ legs shou’d fail.
To play fareweel to whisky, O.
But still I think on auld langsyne,
