i doubt na fortune may you shore

some mim-mou'd pouther'd priestie,

fu' lifted up wi' hebrew lore,

and band upon his breastie:

but oh! what signifies to you

his lexicons and grammars;

the feeling heart's the royal blue,

and that's wi' willie chalmers.

some gapin', glowrin' countraird

may warsle for your favour;

may w his lug, and straik his beard,

and hoast up some pver:

my bonie maid, before ye wed

sic clumsy-witted hammers,

seek heaven for help, and barefit skelp

awa wi' willie chalmers.

forgive the bard! my fond regard

for ane that shares my bosom,

inspires my muse to gie 'm his dues

for deil a hair i roose him.

may powers aboon unite you soon,

and fructify your amours,—

and every year e in mair dear

to you and willie chalmers.