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Some say that care killed the cat,
Which made her to starve alive,
But I will be wiser than that,
For never a care had I.
With the toast of a full flowing bowl,
We'll drive away sorrow and strife,
Here's a health to each good-hearted fellow
Who never knew care in his life.
And sing, what need we quarrel, &c.
Which made her to starve alive,
But I will be wiser than that,
For never a care had I.
With the toast of a full flowing bowl,
We'll drive away sorrow and strife,
Here's a health to each good-hearted fellow
Who never knew care in his life.
And sing, what need we quarrel, &c.
SCOTLAND YET.
Gae bring my gude auld harp ance Mair,
Gae bring it free and fast,
For I maun sing anither sang
Ere a' my glee be past;
An' trow ye as I sing my lads,
The burden o't shall be—
Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes,
And Scotland's hills for me;
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.
Gae bring it free and fast,
For I maun sing anither sang
Ere a' my glee be past;
An' trow ye as I sing my lads,
The burden o't shall be—
Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes,
And Scotland's hills for me;
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three.
The heath waves wild upon her hills,
And foaming frae the fells,
Her fountains sing of freedom still,
As they dash down the dells;
For weel I lo'e the land, my lads,
That's girded by the sea—
Then Scotland's vales, and Scotland's dales,
And Scotland's hills for me;
And foaming frae the fells,
Her fountains sing of freedom still,
As they dash down the dells;
For weel I lo'e the land, my lads,
That's girded by the sea—
Then Scotland's vales, and Scotland's dales,
And Scotland's hills for me;
