Young lasses' song, or, What wou'd a young lassie do wi' an auld man/Bonaparte o'er the Sea

Bonaparte o'er the Sea.

Bonaparte, o'er the ſea,
Threatens you, and threatens me;
But, ſingle-handed tho' we be,
We'll whiſtle o'er the lave o't.

Let him come, or let him ſend,
Back again he'll never bend;
Our iſland is his journey's end,
He'll only find a grave o't.

And for the fiend like ſons of ſtrife,
Wha'd ſtain the ſoil that gie'd us life,
By a' that's dear to man and wife,
An inch they'll never have o't.

We'll fight like men who dare be free;
We'll gar them fa', or gar them flee;
And when we've drown'd them i' the ſea,
We'll whiſtle o'er the lave o't.

In his King and Country's cauſe
Bleſs'd is he who nobly fa's;
Loud fame proclaims him in her ha's,
And glory tells the brave o't.

Lond found your pipes, your chanters blaw
To arms! to arms! huzza! huzza!
Our King, our Liberty and Law,
Our Country, or a grave o't.