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Leeze me on liquor, my todlen dow,
Ye're ay sae good humoured whan weeting your mou‘;
When sober, sae sour, ye'll fight with a flee,
That 'tis a blyth sight for the bairns and me,
When todlen hame, todlen hame,
When round as a neep you come todlen hame.
THE BANDY-LEGGED OFFICER.
A Landlady in France, lov'd an officer 'tis said,
And the officer he dearly lov‘d his brandy O
Said she, I love this officer, altho‘ his nose is red,
And his legs are what the regiment call bandy O.
When this bandy-legged officer was order‘d to the coast,
How she tore her lovely locks that look'd so sandy O,
Adieu, my love, says she, if you write pray the post,
But before we part, let's take a cup of brandy O.
