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They're douff and dowie at the best.
Their allegros, and a' the rest :
They canna please a Highland taste,
Compared wi' Tullochgorum.
Let warldly minds themselves oppress,
Wi' fear of want and double cess,
And silly souls themselves distress,
Wi' keeping up decorum.
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Sour and sulky, sour and sulky,
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Like auld Philosophorum?
Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,
Wi' neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit,
And canna rise to shake a fit
To the reel of Tullochgorum?
May choicest blessings still attend
Each open-hearted, honest friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,
And a' that's good watch o'er 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,
Who wants to be oppression's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten soul,
And discontent 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 come frae France,
Whae'er he be that winna dance
The reel of Tullochgorum!
