at every chap.
nae mercy then, for airn or steel;
the brawnie, banie, ploughman chiel,
brings hard owrehip, wi' sturdy wheel,
the strong forehammer,
till block an' studdie ring an reel,
wi' dinsome mour.
when skirling weanies see the light,
though maks the gossips tter bright,
how fumblin' cuiffs their dearies slight;
wae worth the name!
nae howdie gets a social night,
or ck frae them.
when neibors anger at a plea,
an' just as wud as wud can be,
how easy can the barley brie
cement the quarrel!
it's aye the cheapestwyer's fee,
to taste the barrel.
ke! that e'er my muse has reason,
to wyte her countrymen wi' treason!
but mony daily weet their weason
wi' liquors nice,
an' hardly, in a winter season,
e'er spier her price.
wae worth that brandy, burnin trash!
fell source o' mony a pain an' brash!
twins mony a poor, doylt, drucken hash,
o' half his days;
an' sends, beside, auld scond's cash
to her warst faes.
ye scots, wha wish auld scond well!
ye chief, to you my tale i tell,
poor, ckless devils like mysel'!
it sets you ill,
wi' bitter, dearthfu' wines to mell,
or foreign gill.
may gravels round his ther wrench,
an' gouts torment him, inch by inch,
what twists his gruntle wi' a glunch
o' sour disdain,
out owre a ss o' whisky-punch
wi' honest men!
o whisky! soul o' ys and pranks!
ept a bardie's gratfu' thanks!
when wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
are my poor verses!
thou es—they rattle in their ranks,
at ither's a-s!
thee, ferintosh! o sadly lost!
scondment frae coast to coast!
now colic grips, an' barkin hoast
may kill us a';
for loyal forbes' charter'd boast
is ta'en awa?
thae curst horse-leeches o' the' excise,
wha mak the whisky stells their prize!
haud up thy han', deil! ance, twice, thrice!
there, seize the blinkers!
an' bake them up in brunstane pies
for poor damn'd drinkers.
fortune! if thou'll but gie me still
hale breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,
an' rowth o' rhyme to rave at will,
tak a' the rest,
an' deal't about as thy blind skill
directs thee best.