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When neebors anger at a plea,
And just as wud as wud can be,
How easy can the barley-bree
Cement the quarrel!
It's aye the cheapest Lawyer's fee
To taste the barrel.
Alake! that e'er my Muse has reason
To wyte her countrymen wi' treason !
But monie daily wet their weason
Wi' liquors nice,
And hardly, in a winter's season.
E'er spier her price.
Waeworth the brandy, burning trash!
Fell source o' monie a pain and brash!
Twins monie a poor doylt drucken hash
O' hauf his days;
And sends, beside, auld Scotland's cash
To her warst faes.
Ye Scots wha wish auld Scotland well,
Ye chief, to you my tald I tell,
Poor plackless deevils, like mysel!
It sets you ill,
Wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to meil,
Or foreign gill.
May gravels round his bladder wrench,
And gouts torment him, inch by inch,
Wha twists his gruntle wi' a glunch
O' sour disdain
Out-owre a glass o' whisky-punch
Wi' honest inch.
K
