To Arms.
To arms! to arms! to arms, my lads:
To arms! to arms! to arms!
Care, that canker'd loon,
Is lurking in the town
To charge us wi' fierce alarms.
To arms! to arms! to arms, my lads!
To quell his hatefu' power,
By way of a shield,
This bowl we will wield,
The liquor will soon gar him skour.
Charge, charge, charge, charge, charge him home, my lads!
Charge him home, charge him home, see he flees!
A glass in your hand,
Care never will stand,
You may kill him whenever you please.