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Compar'd wi' Tullochgorum,
Let wardly minds themſelves oppreſs,
Wi' fear of want and double ceſs,
And ſilly ſauls themſelves diſtreſs,
We' keeping up decorum;
Shall we ſo ſour and ſulky ſit
Sour and ſulky, ſour and ſulky;
Shall we ſae ſour and ſulky, fit
Like auld Philoſophorum
Shall we ſae ſour and fulky fit,
Wi' neither ſenſe, nor mirth, nor wit
And canna riſe to ſhake a ſit
At the reel of Tullochgorum.
May choiceſt bleſſings ſtill attend,
Each honeſt hearted open friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,
Be a' that's good before him;
May Peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty;
May peace and plenty be his lot
And dainties a great ſtore o'em
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unſtained by any vicious blot;
And may he never want a groat
That's fond of Tullochgorum.
But for the diſconted fool,
Who wants to be oppreſſion's tool,