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Syne pledg‘d his cog, the chorus rang,
Auld Scotia and her sons are free.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
Thus cracks, and jokes, and sangs gaed roun',
Till morn the screens of light did draw,
Yet driech to rise, the carls roun',
Cry‘d Deuch-an-dherus, then awa ‘
Blythe, blythe, &c.
The landlord then the nappy brings,
Toasts how happy a‘ may be,
Syne tooms the cog, the chorus rings,
Auld Scotia's sons shall ay be free.
Blythe, blythe, &c.
Then like our dads o’ auld langsyne,
Let social glee unite us a',
Ay blythe to meet, our mou's to weet,
But ay as sweer't to gang awa
Blythe, blythe, &c.
ANDRO AND HIS CUTTY GUN
She took me in, she set me down,
She hecht to keep me lawin free
But wylie Catlin that she was,
She gart me birl my bawbee.
