5
Then gie me your han,’ my trusty gude frien',
An’ gie me your word my worthy auld kimmer,
Ye’ll baith come owre on Friday bedeen,
An' join us in rantin’ an’ toomin’ the timmer
Wi’ fouth o' gude liquor,
We’ll haud at the bickar,
An’ lang may the mailin o’ Kebbuckttone flourlsh,
For Watty’s sae free,
Between you an’ me,
I’se warren’t he’s bidden the ha’f o’ the parish.
OH, HASTE AND LEAVE THIS LONELY ISLE.
Oh, haste and leave this lonely isle,
Unholy bark, ere morning smile,
For on thy deck, though dirk it be,
A female form I see.
And I have sworn this lonely sod
Shall ne’er by woman’s foot be trod.’
'Oh, father send not hence my bark,
Thro' wintry winds and billows dark;
I come with humble heart to share
Thy morn and evening prayer;
Nor mine the feet, Oh. holy saint,
The brightness of thy god to taint,'
