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⟨S⟩ay don't take me wrong, the theme of my ſong,
Iſn't that with flounces upon it,
⟨w⟩hich Ladies ſo fair, doth commonly wear,
I mean that the Scots wear a bonnet, brave boys,
Who ne'er was aſham'd of a bonnet.
⟨Th⟩is a bonnet of worth, tho' come from the North,
And worthy a much better ſonnet,
⟨Th⟩e bonnet I ſing, is fit for a King,
Nor care I who laugh at my bonnet, brave boys,
Nor value who banners my bonnet
⟨Th⟩en don't take it ill, that I with my quill,
Have flouriſh'd encomiums upon it,
⟨Sin⟩ce Turban & Turk have ne'er caus'd ſuch work,
As Donald has done with his oner, brave boys,
As Donald has done with his bonnet,
⟨Th⟩e hat may pretend with the cap to contend,
And Critics nay ſay much upon it,
⟨Bu⟩t neither ſhall dare in the laſt to compare,
Or candidates fond with the bonnet, brave boys,
Or vie with your litters a bonnet.
The RELIEF by the BOWL
SINCE drinking has power to bring us relief,
Come fill up the bowl, and the pox on all grief,
we find that won't do, we'll have ſuch another;
and ſo will proceed from one bowl to another;
all, like ſons of Apollo, we'll make our wits ſoar,
in honour to Bacchus fall down on the floor.
Apollo and Bacchus were both merry ſouls,
⟨bot⟩h of them delighted to toſs off their bowls;
⟨th⟩en let us to ſhow ourſelves mortals of merit,
⟨in⟩ toaſting the gods in a bowl of good claret,
⟨and⟩ then we ſhall each be deſerving of praiſe:
the man that drinks moſt ſhall go off with the bays.
