It's now thretty years since I first took the drap,
To moisten my carcase and keep it in sap;
And though what I've drunk might hae slacken'd the sun, I find I'm as dry as when first I begun;
For wi' toddlin' but and toddlin' ben,
I'm nae sooner slacken'd than drouthy again.
Your douse folk aft ca' me a tipplin' auld sot,
A worm to a still, a sand-bed, and what not;
They cry that my hand wad ne'er bide frae my mouth;
But, oddsake! they never consider my drouth;
Yet I'll toddle but an' I'll toddle ben,
An' laugh at their nonsense wha nae better ken.
Some hard-grippin' mortals wha deem themselves wise,
A glass o' gude whisky affect to despise ;
Poor scurvy-soul'd wretches, they're no very blate,
Besides, let me tell them, they're foes to the state;
For wi' toddlin' but and toddlin' ben,
Gin folk wadna drink, how could government fen'?
Yet wae on the tax that maks whisky sae dear,
An' wae on the gauger sae strict an' severe;
Had I but my will o't, I'd soon let you see,
That whisky, like water, to a' should be free;
For I'd toddle but an' I'd toddle ben,
And I'd mak' it rin like the burn after rain.
What signifies New'r day ?-a mock at the best,
That tempts but poor bodies and leaves them unblest?
For ance-a-year fuddle I'd scarce gi'e a strae,
Unless that ilk year were as short as a day;
Then I'd toddle but an' I'd toddle ben,
Wi' the hearty het pint and the canty black hen.
I ne'er was inclined to lay-by ony cash,
Weel kennin' it only wad breed me more fash;
But aye when I had it I let it gang free,
And wad toss for a gill wi' my hindmost bawbee;
For wi' toddlin' but an' toddlin' ben,
I ne'er kent the use o't but only to spen'.
Had siller been made in the kist to lock by,
It ne'er wad been rund, but square as a die;
Whereas by its shape ilka body may see,
It aye was design'd it should circulate free ;
Then we'll toddle but an' we'll toddle ben,
An' aye when we get it, we'll part wi't again.
I ance was persuaded to "put in the pin,"
But foul fa' the bit o't ava wad bide in;
For whisky's a thing sae bewitchingly stout,
The first time I smelt it, the pin it lap out;
Then I toddled but an' I toddled ben,
And I vow'd I wad ne'er be advised sae again.
Oh, leeze me on whisky! it gi'es us new life,
It maks us aye cadgy to cuddle the wife;
It kindles a spark in the breast o' the cauld,
And it maks the rank coward courageously bauld;
Then we'll toddle but an' we'll toddle ben,
An' we'll coup aff our glasses, "Here's to you again !"
Written on occasion of the Union between England and Scotland.
FAREWELL to a' our Scottish fame,
Farewell our ancient glory;
Farewell e'en to the Scottish name,
Sae famed in ancient story!
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,
And Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England's province stands :
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation !
What force or guile could not subdue
Through many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitors' wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station;
But English gold has been our bane:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
I would, ere I had seen the day
That treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lain in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, to my last hour
I'll make this declaration,—
We're bought and sold for English gold:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
ADAM SKIRVING, born 1719, died 1803. Air-"Fye to the hills in the morning."
COPE sent a letter frae Dunbar :-
Sayin', Charlie, meet me an ye daur,
And I'll learn you the art of war,
If you'll meet me in the morning.
Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye wauking yet?
Or are your drums a-beating yet?`
If ye were wauking, I wad wait
To gang to the coals in the morning.
When Charlie look'd the letter upon,
He drew his sword the scabbard from:
Come, follow me, my merry merry men,
And we'll meet Johnnie Cope in the morning.
Hey, Johnnie Cope, &c.
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