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And silly sauls themselves distress,
Wi' keeping up decorum,
Shall we see sour and sulky sit,
Sour end sulky, sour and sulky;
Shall we sae sour aad sulky sit.
Like auld philoiophorum?
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit;
And canna rise to shake a fit,
To the reel o’ Tullochgorum.
May choicest blessings still attend,
Each honest-hearted open friend,
And calm and quite 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 daintier a great store o; em!
May peace and plenty be his lot,
Unstain'd by ony vicious blot,
And may he never want a groat,
That's fond of Tullochgorum!
But for the discontented fool,
