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Their husbands they'll horn, as sure's they were born,
If once they shake hands with a tankard of ale.
Laru la re, &c.Their husbands, &c.

From wrangling or jangling, & every such strife,
Or any thing else that may happen to fall;
From words comes to blows, and a bloody nose,
But friends again over a tankard of ale.
Laru la. re, &c.From words, &c.

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Every Body's Song.

Tune—Merrily danc'd the Quakers Wife.

Tho' haughty France invasion threat,
Yet let these loons beware, Sir,
There’s wooden walls upon our seas,
And Volunteers on shone, Sir.
The Clyde shall run to Tintock's tap,
Benlomond jump to Gal'way,
Ere we permit a foreign foe
On British ground to rally.

Then let us not, as snarling curs,
In wrangling be divided,
Till slap comes in some unco loon,
And with a rung decide it.
Be Britons still to Britons true,
Like Britons stand united;