Page:Melodist.pdf/44

44

Shall we sae sour and silky sit,
Like auld philosophorum?
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
either sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
And canna rise to shake a fit,
the Reel of Tullochgorum?

May choicest blessings still attend
Each honest-hearted open friend.
And calm and quiet be his end,
Be a’ that's good before him!
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Peace and plenty, peace and plenty,
May peace and plenty be his lot,
And dainties a great store o’em;
May peace and plenty be his lot.
Unstain’d by any vicious blot;
And may he never want a groat
That’s fond of Tullochgorum.

But for the discontented fool,
Wha wants to be oppression’s tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,
And blackest fiends devour him!
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow;
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
And honest souls abhor him.
May dool and sorrow be his chance,
And a’ the ills that came frae France,
Whae'er he be that winna dance
The Reel of Tullochgorum,