Peck o' maut/Peck o' maut

For other versions of this work, see Willie Brew'd A Peck O' Maut.

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THE PECK O’ MAUT.

O Willie brew’d a peck o' maut;
And Rab and Allan came to pree;
Three blither hearts, that lee lang night,
Ye wadna found in Christendie.

We are na fou we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee,
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley-bree.

Here are we met three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And mony night we've merry been,
And mony mair we hope to be.

It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinking in the lift sae hie,
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But by my south she'll wait a wee.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold coward loun is he!
Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three:

Thus Willie, Rab and Allan sang,
Thus pass'd the night wi' mirth and glee,
And aye the chorus, a' night lang,
Was, as we're now we hope to be.

And aye they sang We are nae fou,
But just a wee drap in our e'e;
The cock may craw the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.

That time for them the cock did craw,
The harbinger of morn to be;
That time for them the day did daw’,
Wi’ gowden tint o'er tow'r and tree.

That time for them the moon's pale horn,
Did wax and wane o'er land and sea,
But now has daw'd the halplers morn,
That gilds the graves o' a' the three.

Nae mair they sing, “ We are nae fou,”
Nae mair the drappie's in their e'e;
Nor cock does craw nor day does daw’,
Nae mair they'll taste the barley bree.

Thus Learning maks for Willie main,
For Robin poesy wipes her e'e,
And Science wails for Allan gone,
Since death's dark house haude a' the three.

Then Britons mourn for genius rare,
A victims to the barley-bree;
An bann the bree that coudna spare
The youthfu’ lives o' a’ the three.