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Come let us sing our Monarch's praise,And drink his health in wina sir,For now we have braw happy days,Like those of forty-nine sir.
THE GERMAN LAIRDIE,
Lord wha's this we've gotton now! Some wee bit German lairdie,And when they gaed to bring him hame, He was delving his kail yardie,The thing it glowred and clawed it's head, And strokit its wee bit beardie,Laid by its spade and scrapit its shoon, And steekit the door o' the yardie.
Put on its wig and braw new breeks— Ye ken this was a rare day,And pretty seemed in Whiggish e'en, This braw wee German Lairdie.It brushed its coat baith trig and clean, And cried, Ist dies ein fair day,Mein coat new poots vil smuthey be, If das die vay be yerdy.
Tkey set him in a coach so fine, And bade him ne'er fash his beardie